


Rule of Seven

by folerdetdufoler



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Complete, M/M, Museums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2019-09-15 02:50:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 164,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16925127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folerdetdufoler/pseuds/folerdetdufoler
Summary: Isak works at a museum, curating art to educate and entertain the people of his capital city, as well as represent his country's cultural contributions for the rest of the world. He's just returned from a business trip to Paris, right on time for his weekly personal tour of the gallery. He starts just as the museum is opening for the day, and enjoys the collections he knows like the back of his hand in the relative quiet of the morning.Even works at a video game company, collaborating with a group of specialized artists to design the worlds and characters that people can get lost in. He has a strange schedule, and usually has Tuesdays off. He regularly visits the museum then, to enjoy the art, research styles, and practice his skills on paper. Over the past few months he's perfected his timing so he too, experiences art in the relative quiet of the morning.In the third room of the linear layout of the gallery, Isak notices Even.In the third room of the linear layout of the gallery, Even notices Isak.





	1. Isak

**Author's Note:**

> this started from [a prompt](http://folerdetdufoler.tumblr.com/post/171751122910/i-always-wanted-to-write-a-museum-au-but-dont) i received on tumblr. it was initially brainstormed as set in a museum with alternating POV for isak & even. i have not written or planned ahead, so as usual you will be reading as i (slowly) write. i apologize in advance for the lack of schedule, length between updates, etc. i hope to keep most related content here on ao3, but if it ends up back on tumblr it will be tagged with the fic title.
> 
> eventually this will include explicit content, and i will update the rating when it gets posted. (there are usually dicks in a museum, but now there definitely will be _dicks in a museum_.)
> 
> i appreciate any and all feedback, and read everything even if i don't respond (i tend to only respond to direct questions that i can actually answer). if you notice any errors or misrepresentations, especially as i am dealing with two careers and an environment that i have no personal experience with, i would love it if you could let me know in a comment. also, if anything needs to be called out with a tag to assist the filtering process for yourself/others, i would appreciate a note on that too.
> 
> as always, thank you for taking a chance with my writing. i am grateful for your readership, in whatever form it takes. i hope you enjoy.

Isak had a list of notes from his trip, a mix of the exhibit tasks with vague ideas of a deadline and general thoughts that popped into his mind over the long weekend spent in Paris. The most important one though, on this rainy Tuesday morning, was added to the bottom of the list on his tram ride to work: no more red-eyes. It was so important that Isak risked letting go of the pole so he could type out a quick email to Kim.

_Remind me to never book an overnight flight again. And if I ask you to do it, yell at me._

He latched back onto the pole as the tram took a fast turn and let his body sway with the rest of the commuters. A swift response from Kim made his phone vibrate in the pocket he’d just slid it back into, but he ignored it. She reliably replied to messages with short confirmations, so he didn’t feel the need to check his phone until he was off the tram and walking the one block to the museum.

_Will do. Also grabbing a bucket of coffee for you on my way in._

The bucket of coffee was on his desk when he arrived, still steaming hot. He thanked Kim for it and they caught each other up on their weekends, sitting across from each other at his desk.

“You know, I think I can handle the time. It’s not so much the lateness of the flight or lack of sleep as it is the…position? Because I was trying so hard to sleep or remain still during the night, I didn’t let myself stretch and walk and relax, really. So my ass started to hurt. There was too much pressure to be efficient with my time so I got really tense.”

Kim checked her watch. “You should go do your tour then. I didn’t put in on your calendar until 11 but you don’t have anything else scheduled for the morning, in case your flight was late. Stretch everything out.”

Isak took a sip and considered it. He really should dive into the rest of his list before his day got sucked up by whatever “emergencies” happened to wait for him to return from his trip, but he really wanted to take advantage of Kim’s reasoning.

She continued chatting. “Do you watch _Friends_?”

Isak shook his head, slightly confused by the topic jump, but not surprised.

“Ah, well. I just pictured you doing lunges around the rooms.” Isak thought she was going to explain, but Kim simply stood, turned to the door, and leaned into a lunge herself. “Could my ass _be_ any tighter?” She kept lunging all the way back to her desk space, where she laughed at her own TV reference.

Isak compromised. He pulled out his phone and transferred his digital list to the ever-growing paper one that permanently sat next to his keyboard. He reordered things according to priority and cross-referenced them with the full calendar he had pulled up on his computer screen. Once he had everything in one place and a good understanding of what he needed to accomplish for the day, he allowed himself an early break. Starting his tour now meant he would be able to catch the first wave of visitors as the doors opened, and if he recalled the monthly schedule correctly, they were expecting a couple of young school groups right at the start. They, for better or worse, usually provided excellent feedback on the exhibits.

Isak stood and did a preliminary stretch at his desk. He pulled his suit jacket back on and double-checked his shirt for any stains. Then he scooped up his coffee cup and strode out of his office, dropping into lunges as he passed Kim and the cluster of assistants at the center of their floor. Her laugh boomed in delight and followed him all the way up the stairs.

As silly as Isak was being, the lunges were actually helpful. He was feeling better, peppier, by the time he reached the lobby and stepped behind the registers. Two clerks were busy selling tickets and checking passes for a short line of patrons, and over their heads he could see the first school group gathering at the bottom of the stairs. The teacher was talking with Peter, one of their volunteer guides, getting everything set for their start. Isak snapped up the clipboard between the registers to check the visitors’ log.

It was going to be a light day, at least schedule-wise. The only school groups were going to be in the morning, and Camilla was handling both of the private tours that afternoon. In general it was a slow time in the year, as the holidays were still a month away and vacation travelers weren’t flocking to the city yet, se he wasn’t anticipating many tourists either. Isak returned the clipboard and stepped away.

“All right, Isak?” One of the clerks, a young British guy still a bit new to the staff, asked as he was leaving.

“Perfect, Ed. Carry on.” Isak kept moving, just giving a wave over his shoulder. If anything was actually out of order he wouldn’t hesitate to speak up, but Ed was probably still getting used to the level of response to expect from him. Isak gave a nod to Peter as he passed the group and started the climb up the grand staircase to the gallery.

At the top of the steps he took a deep breath. It was how he started every Tuesday tour, clearing his mind and letting other visitors swirl past him. They had their museum to get to, he had his. He shook off the stress from the Paris trip, squared his shoulders, and stepped into the first exhibit room, beginning the rather linear path through history, art, and the education he helped shape.

Since it was earlier than his usual tour, it was noticeably more quiet. The children and visitors downstairs were still getting organized, perhaps stopping in the shop or the café before they moved to the gallery for a few hours. He went through the first two rooms on his own, except for the silent guards seated in each. He gave smiles and nods to each of them, the usual greeting, and moved slowly along the walls, saving the centerpieces for last. There was no right way to view the art, room to room or piece to piece, but it’s the path he naturally took the first time he ever visited this museum and he had stuck with it ever since. His shoes dragged and stopped, whispering his presence in a contemplative tempo. He thought about how fast he moved past some pieces, how long he lingered in front of others. In the second room he noticed that he nearly skipped over a whole wall just to get to his favorite painting at the back. He had to make an effort to not rush. When he did that he looked at the ground, at the path worn into the wood by thousands of other shoes. There were areas in front of the paintings where people settled, and lighter rings around those where others had to stop during busier hours. Alone now, he could stop wherever he chose and let his opinion reign in the silence.

In the third room, he met his first visitor. Rather, he didn’t actually meet him, he just…walked around him. He was standing tall at the center of the room, observing a small Degas sculpture from the front. Isak tried not to stare, to draw attention to himself or away from the art. He walked slowly and stole subtle glances as he moved, his eyes sliding over with every shuffle of his feet. He felt the man’s presence move counter to his, around the sculpture in the opposite direction. He stepped, he paused. The man stepped, the man paused. When Isak was at the back of the room he watched the man lift his arm to grab a medium-sized pad of paper tucked there, already open to a page. He pulled a short pencil down from behind his ear. Isak noticed the strands of hair that were pulled out with it and bobbed in a loose curl at the side of his head. The man didn’t notice his hair, or Isak, or the silence of the room when both of them stopped moving. He stared at the statue and started sketching.

Isak turned back to the wall. He continued walking, ignoring the man behind him. His ear was tuned to the sound of his pencil, but he was determined to continue his tour and make it through the rest of the gallery on time. He finished reviewing, reaching the entrance to the next room. He couldn’t resist one last glance at the man though, perhaps a peek at his drawing from a distance. When he turned he let out a small, “Oh!”

The man was already looking at him.

They stared at each other for a second, at most, and then the man returned to the statue and his paper. Isak swallowed, composing himself from the shock, and left the room.

Sylvie, the guard in the fourth room, held out her hand when Isak entered. “You look like you’re going to faint. Would you like my chair?” she whispered. The fourth room was empty so her voice echoed a bit, made louder despite her proper volume.

“No, thank you, I’m fine.” Isak adjusted his grip on his coffee cup and brought it to his mouth. He noticed his hand was shaking then, but took a sip and tried to swallow down his nerves with a boost of caffeine. “Good morning.”

“You’re early today.” She smiled, assured by his recovery and entertained by his presence.

“I felt them calling and couldn’t resist.” Isak gestured at the room, the paintings on the wall, the faces frozen in time. This made Sylvie smile wide, and she shooed him forward, not wanting to disturb his call. He turned to the first painting and began his observation.

Isak stood there much longer than necessary. He stared at nothing, his gaze focused on the middle distance instead of the landscape, the snowy child, in front of him. He hadn’t recovered from what had happened in the other room, and what he actually felt calling him, what he couldn’t resist, was that man. He wanted to run back in and lock eyes again. He wanted to see if there was something he’d missed, or if there was more to come. He wanted to observe him and take notes. He forced himself to step to the next painting, for Sylvie’s sake. He didn’t look at this one either though, his mind still in the other room.

He finished his tour and returned to the grand staircase. He was annoyed with himself at this point, because he knew he hadn’t taken in much of anything after that third room. Isak took a closing deep breath, another pause, to tie off the gallery and return his mind to the office that awaited him. He descended to the basement, tossing his empty cup on the way, and went into the staff toilets. This was just as empty as most of the museum at this hour, so he stood at the sink and collected himself again.

He looked fine. Maybe a bit tired, puffy, from the flight. But he didn’t have any embarrassing stains on his shirt, sudden spots on his face, or a hair out of place. Isak ran his hands through his hair anyway, thinking maybe he was due for a cut. His curls were on the border of shaggy, and would become downright dangerous if he started using his beanie. He pressed the pads of his fingers into the skin around his eyes, into the wrinkles and the bags that deepened when he smiled. He looked fine, but he wondered what he’d looked like then. What he’d looked like to the man. Fine? Strange? Scared? Rude? Attractive? Isak shook his head and laughed at himself. “Idiot.” He washed his hands and walked to his office.

Kim followed him in once she caught sight of him. “You just missed a call from Hubert.”

“That’s fine. I’m not exactly ready to negotiate on the spot.”

“He said he’d be at his desk for another two hours.”

“Great, thanks.”

“How was it upstairs?”

“Quiet.” He settled into his chair and pulled Hubert’s name up in his contacts. He’d call once he had his head on straight. “But nice. There’s always that anxiety, like no one is here! Ahh! Even though it’s a more pleasant atmosphere for the art. I made it through before the kids could catch up to me.”

“Kids are the worst, aren’t they?” Kim smirked at him, daring him to be more outspoken in his distaste. He clicked his tongue in reply.

“You know what I mean.” Isak enjoyed children, and loved the opportunity to educate them about art at an early age. But there had been a moment or two when they’ve been more than a disruption to the art, and often were the main cause of damage to their collections. Though for that he probably had to blame their guardians instead of their curiosity. “Anyway, good tour. Lots of notes.” He picked up a pen and started adding to his list: _check model schedule for sketching room, find extra bench, sell pencil sharpeners?_ Kim took this as her cue to leave, shutting his door behind her. If Isak was going to attempt speaking French soon, he would want as much privacy as he could get.

As soon as Kim left Isak chucked his pen across the room. He had so many more important things he needed to be focusing on, but all he could think about was turning the third room into a more comfortable studio for the man’s sketching, which was ridiculous. At most, if he ever saw him again, he should point out the separate room the museum had for sketching models and imitation art, which had a bit more natural light, comfortable seating, and extra pencils and paper for anyone who needed it. But now he was drafting an email to their building manager to see what extra furniture they had in storage. And then he drafted another one to his exhibit designer to ask if a bench made sense in front of the Degas. Sending an email to the gift shop felt lazy, so he just kept that note to himself, and hoped he’d remember to visit the shop during lunch to see what sketching supplies they sold.

Then he moved to his calendar and clicked to the following week. Next Tuesday Kim already had his tour scheduled for 11 again. Painfully aware of his intention, he edited the appointment to match the earlier time he took today and confirmed the change. He leaned back in his chair and stared at his calendar.

There it was: Isak’s next chance. For what, he didn’t know. But he had to find out.


	2. Even

When Even caught sight of himself in the mirror in the bathroom, he let out a soft curse. The child washing his hands at the sink next to his glanced up at him, nervous about acknowledging the fact that he’d heard a bad word. Even didn’t notice though, as he frantically tried to comb back the hair that looked like it was trying to escape his head over his ears. God. Had he been walking around the museum looking like a crazy man this whole time? Had Suit Man seen him like this? Even wet his hands under the water to add extra security to his hairstyle, then aggressively dried his hands in frustration. Fuck. As if his outfit hadn’t been bad enough.

Even stormed out of the bathroom and went to the lockers to grab his things. He punched in the code and pulled out his backpack, coat, and hat. The pad of paper and pencil went into the backpack unceremoniously, and the hat on his head in the same way. It didn’t matter anymore if his hair was fucked up. The day was ruined so he should just go back to bed. He waved to Ed as he left, who shouted a cheery, “Mate!” to him right before he passed through the doors.

The cold cut through him before he gave himself a chance to zip up his coat. He’d gotten accustomed to the warmth of the museum, the heat from the people and the exhibit lights, as well as the flush of embarrassment after his morning took a turn. He’d really needed this this week, a proper sketching session that took him away from the pressure of work and the confines of his bedroom. But now he headed back to all of that without any relief. In fact, with an added stress: where had Suit Man come from?

Even walked past his usual bus stop. He was going home, but like everything else from that morning, he was still distracted. He went to a coffee shop two blocks away, the same brand that was on the cup the man was holding. He didn’t drink coffee himself; he was more interested in solving this new puzzle, finding the rest of the pieces of this man. He had come here, before going to the museum. He had stood in line at this register. He had ordered something hot, to go, and maybe he’d rushed to the museum to get there when it was opening, just like he had. Even ordered a tea, the cheapest one, more interested in the cup than the drink. He stood to the left and waited for it to be prepared, wondering if he was in someone’s way even though the café was mostly empty. He checked his phone just to give his eyes something to do. When it was ready he scooped up the cup and said a hasty good-bye. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like he was stalking a stranger, even though there was no connection between them except for the one in his head.

Outside he rested the cup on a bench while he put on his headphones and turned on some music. If he was going to make it home alive, he had to have something to drown out the thoughts that were halfway to an obsessive spiral. It was just a man. Sure, he was attractive, but almost anyone Even managed to get a good look at was. He was well-dressed and seemed to appreciate the paintings in that room, which were features of every person over twenty who voluntarily went to the museum. Except himself, maybe. Even glanced down at his beat-up trainers and garishly striped socks calling out from just below his cuffed jeans. “Do better,” he muttered. He continued to walk in the direction of his apartment, glancing at people on the sidewalk, placing the man among their ilk. They were strangers in their own world, having nothing to do with his. They were listening to their own music or worrying about their own socks, not caring if someone they didn’t know was looking at them. It took the whole trip home, during which he listened to an entire album and drained his cup of tea, but he managed to shake the strangeness of the morning and resume his Tuesday. He was even prepared for Eskild’s usual assault as soon as he walked into the apartment.

“My love!”

“Hello, Eskild.”

“Not you, Even.”

When Even looked up from the pile of shoes at his feet he realized Eskild was exalting someone in their living room. He shrugged off his coat and followed Eskild down the hall. He almost laughed when he found a rather stunned one-night-stand trapped on the couch with a glass of water.

“Even, this is Blue Underwear. Blue Underwear, this is Even.”

Even paused to offer a hand, which Blue Underwear took gently. He was wearing a proper outfit, looking quite ready to leave, so Even just had to assume the color of his underwear. “Nice to meet you….”

“Oliver.”

Eskild lightly slapped at Oliver’s shoulder. “Oh right, Oliver. Well before he was Oliver he was Black Sweater, or Tight Pants, or Fancy Shoes, but then he told me he was Oliver, and then an hour later he went back to being Blue Underwear.”

Oliver blushed at the quick history of their meeting. Even tried his best to reduce his embarrassment. “Oh, you’re Black Sweater! I’ve heard a lot about you. Congratulations on making it out alive.” He gave Oliver a knowing smile, which made Oliver chuckle and Eskild pout.

“I’m not that bad.”

“Eskild, it’s almost one in the afternoon on a Tuesday and the poor guy is still on our couch. Let him go. Is Noora home?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay.” Even didn’t really care if Noora was home, and knew she wasn’t, but he wanted to change the subject. It also was for the best if, out of all of them, he was the one looking dumb. Oliver took a self-conscious sip of water, as if even he knew that Noora wouldn’t be home on a Tuesday afternoon. “Well I’m gonna go…play a game.”

“Have fun. What do you want to do for dinner?”

Even moved around the couch toward his bedroom. Eskild twisted in his seat to follow him with his eyes. “I think I have sausages & peppers.”

“Ooo, do any of those sausages have my name on them?”

“Eskild…I’m pretty sure all of the sausages in Oslo have your name on them.”

Oliver snorted into his water, spilling some into his lap. Eskild snapped back around at the opportunity to pat him dry, ignoring Even’s joke. Even leaned on his door and shouldered his way into his room.

The relief Even felt once he could close his door behind him was overwhelming. His whole body deflated, his backpack sliding off of his shoulder, his chin hitting his chest. He exhaled. Even walked over to his desk and set the empty cup on the corner. He pulled out his sketchpad and pencils from his bag and set them next to the cup. The rest of his bag became a lump next to his bed, where it would stay until he left for the office the next morning.

Normally Even would do what he told Eskild he was going to do: fire up his console and play a game for a few hours, until it was time for dinner. It was one of his favorite things to do, because it made him less aware of time passing and he would still feel like he accomplished something from an otherwise empty day. With Noora gone and Eskild off to work soon himself, he could play uninterrupted. But today he simply didn’t have the energy. The unexpected twist of the morning had been such a drain on him, and the tea barely provided enough of a boost to get through the afternoon. So Even continued to shed his layers and add to the lump next to the bed until he was just down to his t-shirt, boxers, and striped socks. He considered pulling his sweater back on to stay warm, but decided to just burrow himself under the covers completely instead. His own body would heat up the dark cocoon soon enough. He tugged and tucked the blankets around him to seal himself off and relaxed. No one could see him here. No one could surprise him here. He slept.

* * *

Even slept through his dinner plans. He woke up to a dark and empty apartment, somewhere in the range of after midnight. He felt well-rested and unbothered by the length of his nap, because it was rare that he could enjoy waking up without an alarm, just the natural feeling of his body saying _That’s enough_. He hopped from the warmth of his bed to the hug of his old bathrobe, worn thin over the years and probably due for a wash. He went to the kitchen in pursuit of sausages.

Even had been living with Eskild and Noora for years. He found them after a particularly nasty break-up, when he was suddenly in need of an apartment, and their temporary assistance became permanent when Eskild asked about the future of his rent payments. He had thought Eskild was going to kick him out after their initial 6-month agreement, but Eskild was _actually_ asking if he could lock him in for another year or two or five. It was a nice apartment, and neither of them wanted to lose it, so Even kept agreeing to another year of putting up with Eskild’s revolving door of a bedroom as long as Eskild would put up with whatever messes Even contributed himself. He felt like Eskild was getting the good end of the deal simply because his messes took two to tango, and Even could wreak havoc plenty on his own. But they actually didn’t talk about it much; it was an unspoken agreement that never came up because they both paid rent on time. They had their issues, but not with each other. And Noora was Noora, Wendy to a couple of lost boys.

Even moved around the kitchen with ease, collecting the food from his designated shelves in the fridge and borrowing Noora’s good frying pan. He was hungry and motivated, so he used his time efficiently. While the sausages sizzled he started washing the dishes left in the sink, to make room for his own.

Noora came home just as he was about to serve himself. She popped her head into the kitchen to give him a tired hello.

“Food?”

“No, thanks. Just sleep.” She looked as worn out as he had felt earlier that afternoon so he let her go, not interrupting her path to bed any further. He ate quickly and washed up quietly. He put her pan back so she’d be able to find it in the morning. No matter how sleep-deprived she was, she always made time to eat a solid breakfast, and Even wasn’t going to interrupt that either. He shut off the lights in the rest of the apartment as he returned to his bedroom, and hoped that was enough of a cue for Eskild to be quiet when he came home.

Between the three of them no one had a typical work schedule, and their unpredictable appearances in the apartment were further randomized by Noora’s deadlines, Even’s sleep requirements, and Eskild’s dick. More often than not they crossed paths at four in the morning and Noora constantly noted how unhealthy that was. None of them made any effort to fix it though. Eskild continued to chase men all across the city, Noora continued to chase stories until the cleaning crew at the office shooed her out the door, and Even continued to chase the mystery of his own body.

The surge of energy now, again, in the wee hours, had Even standing in his bedroom with his hands on his hips. He should clean up, make his bed for once. Maybe sort his clothes for a load of laundry. Bring the stack of dirty dishes on his desk back to the kitchen. That would make too much noise though. A small wave of shame washed over him as he realized he still struggled with the most basic tasks, even when he was feeling driven to actually do something. He could put on headphones and play for a bit, probably knock out a quest before it was time to get ready for work. Or…he glanced back at his desk, at the cup and sketchpad. He walked over and flipped it open to the most recent worked page.

Even had used three pages that morning, his average. When he was just doing loose sketches he could fit about five small forms on each page. The first few at the top were still Degas, the uplifted face, the extended leg. But then he saw his lines darken, thicken, as his pencil became heavy with a new intent: square shoulders under a dark suit, three defined curls at the nape of his neck, encroaching on a starched collar. He had drawn the man from behind quickly, trying to catch him at each pause, racing his ultimate disappearance.

Even’s fingers pressed into the graphite and blurred the lines. The forms faded to match his memory. It was just a suit, just a stranger. He flicked up to the second and third page, where more forms and angles had been hastily recorded. He’d spent another two hours in the room, standing still against tides of children and tourists, looking at the little dancer but seeing only the man. He felt foolish now, having spent so much time and paper on something so useless. His figure studies had a purpose after all, not just a casual pastime during his day off. They were the root of his animation, a return to form and a jumping-off point for the three-dimensional characters that paid his rent. Sure, he specialized in movement, but not this movement. He didn’t need to focus on what it looked like when a man walked around him, away from him.

And yet there were two pages of it. He flicked between them, rubbing at more of the lines. On the third, there was the man facing him. He’d drawn the square shoulders from the front, and the length of his body as it tapered to his ankles. His hair had a weight that battled its own curl and ended up settling into a composed wave. His shoes were shiny. He remembered the shock in the man’s “Oh!” but couldn’t quite recall his face. The pages were blank of it as well.

He wiped his fingers on his bathrobe. How could he be so fixated on something he couldn’t remember? How could he memorize a cup and ignore a face? Even flipped the cover of the sketchpad closed. Maybe he should blame his lack of sleep leading up to that morning. Or the fact that he’d been so distracted. In all the months he’d been coming to the museum he hadn’t been interrupted so significantly before, and it must have thrown him off his usual process. Then he wondered if he had done it on purpose, the same way he played quests. Sometimes he knew what it would take to complete a task but he would stop and walk away without it. Then he would have something to come back to. Then he would have a reason to return. He stared at the pad and the cup, and the dulled pencils next to them. He would have to wait until a more decent hour, but then he could sharpen his pencils and prepare for the return to his quest next week.


	3. Even

Even was on time, at least. Someone came out to change the sign at the entrance just as he arrived at the bottom of the steps, declaring the museum open for the day. They quickly disappeared behind the heavy wood door, closing it against the biting wind. Even waited a moment before climbing so he didn’t appear too eager to get inside.

Even took long strides through the first two rooms, not caring about what they held. He’d seen it already. He needed to get back to the sculpture, his focus renewed on accomplishing what he couldn’t last week. It must have been a fluke, that man interrupting his morning and throwing it all off. He hadn’t ever seen him before, and over the last week Even convinced himself it wouldn’t happen again. He was coming back for Degas.

He stopped short when he entered the third room.

“This exhibit is closing soon.” The man was back, still in a suit. He was standing next to the sculpture, straighter than the bronze body on display. Even’s eye dropped to the man’s hands, which were clasped in front of him, then back up to his face. Everything felt sharp: the monotone of his voice had an edge, the crisp dark color of his suit contrasted with the light of the room, the lines of his face, his eyebrows, nose, jaw, were singular, sure strokes on a page.

“S-sorry, I’ll leave.”

“No!” The man’s hands flew up to stop him. “I meant, this sculpture. The centerpieces, they’re moving out in a couple of weeks. You don’t have much time left to draw them.” His voice started sharp but softened as he explained. “I didn’t want you to come back one day and have everything you were working on gone without notice.”

“Oh. Well thank you for letting me know. It’s just practice though, not any actual…art.” The words came out slowly as one half of his mind worked on language while the other remained distracted by the man’s face. The rest of his body was frozen in place, with zero brainpower left to control any movement.

“I also brought in a stool for you, to sit on.” The man stepped aside then, to reveal a tall wood stool, just a simple round seat on four legs. It looked like the ones at school, which he never bothered with because they were the wrong height.

“Thank you. But those aren’t allowed.” Even’s cheeks flushed with regret the moment he corrected the man, his embarrassment overwhelming any confusion he had about the offer. He shouldn’t have reprimanded him for the kind gesture. But Even knew the rules, no external seating was allowed in the museum. He also knew when the exhibits closed because he read the website before he came each week. He always had to check the museum hours and make sure he wasn’t missing anything, or breaking any rules himself.

The man laughed. “I know. I asked for it.” He took one step toward Even. “I work here.”

“Oh! I didn’t realize.” Even’s glance flicked to the guard to his right, who was staring blankly ahead. The man noticed and laughed again.

“The uniform would probably help, but I’ve spent years in those and I’m done directing people to the bathroom.” The man leaned toward the guard. “No offense, Chris.” The guard’s expression snapped to attention now that he was hailed into the conversation. Chris gave the man a smirk in return.

Even felt everything relax as the man’s identity developed and he fit more comfortably in the context of the room. He was here because he worked here, and he was here again because he was trying to help Even enjoy the art. The man strode up to him and reached out a hand. “I’m Isak.”

“Even.” He took Isak’s hand in a firm grip, going through the motions of polite society. The sharp features were close now, and he was so distracted he wasn’t quite sure what to look at.

“Nice to meet you, Even. I also wanted to let you know that we have a lovely artists’ room for extended work if you’re interested.”

Even automatically pointed in the direction of the room Isak was talking about.

“Yes.” Isak smiled. “I don’t mean to send you away from these pieces, but if you need more supplies, different light, or figures to work with, I wanted to make sure you knew where to find them.”

“Thank you. Again.” Even tried to smile back, but he felt the corners of his mouth shaking with nerves, so he gave up. “I spent a few weeks there a while back, when you had those pastel murals.”

“Ah, yes! Those were…that was Camilla’s idea, a more hands-on opportunity for the kids. Great for teaching scale and perspective but a bit of a mess.”

“I remember that. Paper towel duty.” Chris chimed in with another smirk.

Isak smiled even bigger now, and Even focused on that, on the deep dimples that appeared, two in a row echoing out across his cheeks. “Well I won’t keep you from your sketching. I just wanted to introduce myself and make sure you were set up here.”

Even nodded. He didn’t want to say thank you again simply because he wanted to prove that he knew other words, but nothing came out in place of it.

“It’s always a personal moment of pride when I get to see art inspiring art right here in the museum.” Isak gestured around him like it was his living room. “Ah, um…okay. Enjoy.”

The lack of conversation from Even must have been a cue to leave, so Isak turned on his heel and strode out of the room. Even watched him go, and then continued to stare at the empty doorway. As suddenly as he had appeared that morning, the man was gone, but he was a whole different person now. He had a name, and a face begging to be sketched, and a slight scent that Even would never be able to capture on his own. Even stared at nothing while his mind tried to trap everything that had just happened into memory.

He was shocked back to the present by a whisper from Chris. “I highly recommend claiming the stool before someone else gets it. I can hear a group approaching.”

Even regained his sense of purpose and strode over to the stool. This one was too short to work on as well, but he sat down anyway. He turned away from Chris, and the statue, and stared at the back corner of the room. He needed a few moments to recover, to process everything that had just happened and return to his original path. He was here to practice capturing the little dancer, achieving the informal posture of a body trained for formal poses. He plucked the pencil from behind his ear and automatically smoothed down any stray hairs right after. He pulled off his backpack and took out his sketchpad. He tucked the bag underneath the stool.

When he heard footsteps he swiveled around on the seat to face the entrance to the next room, but Isak wasn’t returning; another visitor was walking into the room on the right. Even quickly dropped his gaze. He flipped open to his last page, which was curling a bit at the corner from being left open over the weekend. He still had space for a fresh sketch of the sculpture, so he scanned the body in front of him for a good starting point.

Movement from other visitors crossed the background, setting off the edges of the form. His eyes settled on the curve of a thigh. His pencil settled on the paper. But instead of drawing the dancer he filled in the face that he’d been missing since last week.

* * *

It was a bad idea. Truly horrible. But Even didn’t have anyone else to turn to, especially anyone else with such immediate access to alcohol. Granted, he probably wouldn’t need the alcohol if he was seeking counsel from literally anyone else, but that wasn’t an option. After work on Wednesday he went directly to Eskild’s bar.

“My love! Bad day?”

“It’s been a strange…week.” Even walked directly to his usual seat at the end of the bar, where Eskild already had a coaster waiting. Eskild took his cue to mix up some rum and ginger beer. He popped a paper umbrella into the ice cubes and served his version of therapy with his preferred flair.

“Take two big sips and then tell Daddy all about it.”

Even grimaced lightly, less in reaction to the name and more at the memory of hearing it screamed through the wall for hours last night. Eskild had moved on from Oliver pretty quickly, and it sounded like he’d found a Blond Highlights, or maybe it was Glitter Tits from last weekend. He picked up the glass and toasted Daddy before taking the prescribed sips. Eskild went back to slicing limes while he waited for Even to dish.

“It feels weird to say, at my age, but…I think I have a crush.” The lights hadn’t dimmed yet for the evening, so Even knew the blush in his cheeks was obvious. 

Eskild dropped his knife. “Fucking finally!” He leaned over the limes to get in Even’s face. “Details, all of them. Photo if you have it.”

“I met him at the museum.” Eskild perked up even more (if that was possible) at the specific pronoun. “We haven’t talked much, and I don’t have a photo, but….” Even swiped open his phone and pulled up an image. “I made this.”

He showed Eskild a 2D animation that he spent all morning on at work: Isak in his suit, facing away, and then turning to the viewer. A look of surprise popped onto his face when he made eye contact. He froze for a moment before it looped again.

“Uh…wait. Are you fucking with me? Is this a character from a comic book?”

“No, he’s a person. He works at the museum. That’s the problem, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. I had to draw him.”

Eskild accepted the explanation. He took Even’s phone and watched the animation for another minute. “Is he really this cute?”

It almost hurt Even to admit it: “Yes.” Instead of working on the little fairy creature like he was supposed to, he’d ripped out the pages of Isak’s drawings from his pad and spent a couple of hours animating him. It was cartoonish, the style he’d chosen, which leant itself to exaggerated features, but they were true in that those were the features that had stood out. The sharp jaw, the perfect nose, the sleek suit. The look of shock had turned into a weapon, which pierced his heart every time it replayed in his mind.

The worst part was that when he was done he knew he’d never be done. He suddenly needed to go back to the museum to talk to Isak again, to watch his face move in different ways, to see how his arms shifted under the fabric of his suit, to hear how his footsteps landed and the length of his gait. He came to the bar instead, because the museum was closing soon and Eskild might be able to snap him out of it. And if not Eskild, then the alcohol. That usually solved most of his problems, or at least pushed them to another day. He took a drink while Eskild looked deep in thought.

“Okay. So we need a plan. What’s his name?”

“Isak.”

“Just Isak? Which museum?”

“National.”

Eskild navigated to Even’s browser and started searching. “What does he do there?”

“I don’t know. Wears a suit. He used to wear a uniform but now it’s a very nice suit. And he brought me a stool.”

Eskild looked up from the phone to stare at Even. “Those are all very helpful search terms for google.” He pantomimed typing. “S-T-O-O-L.”

Even rolled his eyes at himself. He truly was being stupid about all of this. Eskild kept him on track though. “Here. Isak Valtersen. Senior Curator. Shall I dial his number for you? Or would you like to make a restaurant reservation first?” Even stole his phone back. He looked at the contact information that Eskild found on the museum’s website, the most obvious place he should have visited first. Instead he’d just recalled what Isak looked like standing in front of him, daydreaming a form until he had drawn his avatar in full. But there was the rest of the puzzle in his hand. He had a face, a name, a job title. He had a phone number and an email address that he could use to strike up a proper conversation. He never would, but it was a comfort to see how accessible he was. 

“Okay well staring at a bunch of numbers isn’t going to do anything.” Eskild grabbed the phone again and moved to Instagram. He generously tilted the screen to Even so he could see what he was doing. He quickly searched for Isak’s profile with the speed and precision of a skilled hunter. He knew what to look for, which Isaks to ignore. It only took him two tries to find the right profile, locked, but with a professional looking headshot in the profile photo. “It’s most of his full name, so this is probably his main. The challenge will be finding his finsta. But from there his dark profile will be easy. May I?” Eskild’s thumb hovered over the request button.

“No! That’s creepy.”

“It’s not creepy. It’s just a…signal. Like making eye contact across a crowded room. You’re just saying hey and letting him know you’re interested in his life.” Even relaxed a little bit but didn’t quite back off. “And that you’d like to shove your tongue down his throat. And draw him naked. You know, whatever you do in your room that gets you going.”

Even stole back his phone. In his hasty grip, his palm triggered the request button, sealing his fate. When he realized what he’d done, his face fell. Eskild stood up straight, triumphant.

“Oh Even, don’t worry. It’s just Instagram. Maybe he doesn’t really use his profile, and won’t even see your request. The worst thing that can happen is that he doesn’t accept it. And then you’re just back to where you started. It’s fine.”

Even tried to hide his fear behind another long drink. He almost drained his glass. “What if he does accept it?”

“Then you tell me instantly, and if I’m at work you run right back down here so we can scroll through every single picture.”

“But…what if I see him again?”

Eskild spun around in a circle, searching the vicinity. “I’m sorry, is that not the point? Is that not why you dragged your cute butt down here in the first place? You come to Eskild for one thing and one thing only: to get shit done.” Eskild leaned over his limes again. “When you see him again at the museum on Tuesday, like usual, you will talk to him about one of his pictures. Maybe he went on a trip somewhere, or posted a piece of art that you love, whatever curators do. You start up a conversation about that, which, first of all simply starts a conversation, and second of all shows him that you did some research and are interested in more. Then, you know, tongues, nudity, et cetera. And if you don’t, I will.” Eskild paused, and considered Even while he took in the whole plan. “Jesus it’s like I’m teaching a 13-year-old how to pick up girls. What happened to your game, man?”

Even just shrugged and looked down at his phone.

Eskild’s voice softened slightly. “You used to have a parade of people on the weekends. I remember I was starting to get jealous. I mean, you are fucking competition. Literally.”

“Things were crazy for a little while,” he admitted. He took his last sip. Eskild started mixing another. Even refreshed Isak’s profile to see if anything had changed, and when it didn’t, he tapped on his own. He scrolled through the mix of work drawings and glimpses of his life, restaurant dishes and embarrassing photos of Eskild and a couple of portraits that Noora snapped when he was feeling himself. He thought it was an accurate representation of a mature yet humorous, artistic type…when he was up to posting. If Isak did as much of an investigation as Eskild wanted him to, he would see the posts went up in waves, flurries of activity then months of silence. From afar it looked balanced and composed; up close it swung with his mood in every possible direction. He confirmed that he didn’t need to delete anything too strange and then went back to Isak’s profile. Eskild swapped out his glasses.

“Anything?”

“Nope.”

They stared at his phone for a while, but when the screen dimmed from inactivity Eskild went back to his limes. Even started in on his second cocktail.

Even watched Eskild finish his prep, making sure his bar was well-stocked and his tools, bottles, and glasses in their regular locations, ready for the muscle memory movements of a busy evening. It was Wednesday, so it wouldn’t actually get busy, but Eskild prided himself on a tidy kingdom. It also freed up his time to chat with customers, which was how he earned tips and eventually got laid. Even envied him that a little bit, for perfecting a work and social life balance that kept his wallet and bed brimming, but that was simply Eskild’s art. Even could draw and animate men into detailed characters with a backstory; Eskild could get into their pants and make them pay for the alcohol that paved the way. He admired Eskild’s confidence with which he approached just about anything: men, more men, and the art of Instagram.

A notification flashed but it wasn’t what Even was waiting for. A colleague was updating him on their small group’s location, another bar that Even had vaguely committed to before he realized what he actually needed was advice from Eskild. Now that he was playing a waiting game though, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to do so with a little more distraction than his roommate. Eskild noticed him reaching for his phone from the other end of the bar and ran over. “Is it—?”

“No, just coworkers going out, letting me know where they’re headed.”

“Are they cute? Bring them here.”

Even shrugged. They were all younger than him, but he never evaluated the cuteness of the people he worked with, since office life was struggle enough. No need to open that can of worms.

“Well you should go join them for dinner. I haven’t asked the kitchen for anything and you really should be eating with those.”

Even tilted his glass toward himself and stared down the spicy brown mixture. “You _did_ give me a pretty heavy pour.”

“I would’ve given you the bottle straight, the way you were looking when you walked in.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Like a puppy that hasn’t humped a leg in over a year.”

He couldn’t tell if the comparison didn’t make sense because of the drinking or because it came from Eskild. But he swallowed the truth with the last of his glass: he _hadn't_ humped a leg in over a year. “Your intimate knowledge of my sex life never ceases to amaze me.”

“What sex life?”

Even’s mouth fell open. He leaned over the bar to grab an orange slice from the garnish tray Eskild has so dutifully filled, but by the time he could chuck it at him, Eskild was already at the taps, out of range. Even feinted a throw, then shoved the slice in his mouth, sucking out the juice. He bit down and pulled the rind out, letting the pulpy mess fall right on the bar like a mic drop.

Even stumbled a bit, getting to his feet. He pulled on his coat and ran a hand through his hair. Eskild approached tentatively, in case Even was going to retaliate again. He didn’t though, as he was already focusing on how he was going to meet up with his coworkers.

“Text me when he accepts?”

Even nodded into his chest. He scooped his phone off of the bar. He was already convinced that Isak wouldn’t, because Even still thought it seemed creepy considering how little they knew about each other. His animation was creepy too, but at least he kept it to himself. Now Isak _knew_ how creepy he was, and he almost expected to see his own profile blocked the next time he checked. His expectations were low, below sea level, in fact, so he promised an update for Eskild knowing it would never come.

Even headed for the door. He paused right before stepping out, though, to check the location of the restaurant he was going to. Isak’s profile popped up when he swiped open his phone and Even gasped. He had access. He immediately scrolled to the first recognizable photo of Isak, him standing with a few other older gentlemen, holding cocktail glasses, wearing name tags. He was in a sharp suit, of course. Even very carefully zoomed in on Isak’s face, taking in the grainy, slight smile and feeling the boredom in his eyes. The picture snapped back to size when he let it go. Even glanced at the hashtags, then back to Isak’s face. Shit. He even looked cute at a lame industry function.

Even was pulled out of his brand new fantasy when someone else entered and the gust of cold wind that followed them bit at Even’s fingers. “Sorry.” There was plenty of room but he still stepped to the side to clear the way for the other patron. He glanced one more time at his screen. “Eskild!” he called back to the bar.

“What?”

Even held up his phone, Isak’s open profile on display. He was delighted, excited. “Dibs.”


	4. Isak

Isak had turned on notifications for Even’s Instagram profile. That still didn’t stop him from constantly checking it throughout the day for a new photo, sometimes even when he was halfway through writing an important email. He would just simply glance over at his desk and that was enough to encourage his urge to open the app. He felt silly, but at the same time it felt important. It felt like he wasn’t completely delusional.

He had the same reaction after meeting Even as he did the first time he saw him. When he moved to Sylvie’s room he had to stop again to collect himself. He wanted to peek back in to see if Even was using the stool, to watch him draw, but he already knew how creepy he was, bringing the furniture in in the first place. And then on top of that, waiting for him? He should have just left the stool and asked Chris to report back on anyone using it. Or done another walk-through an hour later, casually, normally. He’d spent the rest of the day agonizing over his own desperation and picturing Even’s wide-eyed stare. Whenever it was quiet enough in the office he also heard the soft thank yous replay in his head, and his breath catch whenever they did. He barely made any progress on the trade proposal Hubert had sent back.

And then he’d nearly dropped his phone in his soup when he saw the Instagram notification. He stopped eating for a solid twenty minutes while he scrolled through Even’s profile, his excitement growing with each photo. He was getting, literally, a better picture of the man and it was wonderful. His photos were casual and funny and well-composed. He was as attractive as he was in person when he was doubled over in laughter in the background, and it delighted Isak to see the variety of emotion he expressed beyond the quiet stares he’d received in the museum. The profile gave him so much more, and made him want even more than that. So he approved the request, though there wasn’t much in his own profile to impress. But at least they were on the same level. At least his stunt with the stool wasn’t weird.

Because after all of the emails he’d sent and the pushback he’d received, he’d had to break a couple of rules on his own. They had extra seating but it wasn’t going to be moved upstairs so soon before the benefit. There were also liabilities with movable furniture near the sculpture, especially since a single seat in the hands of the public could do more damage than their larger couches. The exhibit designer didn’t have authority over Isak’s decisions, but they advised against it, because it _would_ get in the way of the flow of the room. Isak ran a few scenarios through his mind, options for Tuesday, and eventually decided he’d just do something temporary. It would give him an excuse to be upstairs anyway, to set it up and explain himself instead of just arranging it from afar and hoping for the best. And while the meeting had been overwhelming, it wasn’t a disaster. He went back upstairs during lunch and returned the empty stool to the artists’ room.

By Friday he was still terribly distracted by the Instagram profile. It hadn’t updated, nor had Even sent a message, but it was still nice to look at in general. He was scrolling through it again when Kim knocked on his open door and leaned in. “If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to fire me for it?”

“Absolutely not.” Isak swiped out of the app and turned his phone face down onto his desk. Kim stepped in and took one of the chairs opposite him. He clearly wasn’t focusing on any actual work so he welcomed the further distraction.

“Okay well I’m going to tell you anyway. A few months ago I saw this really cute guy, like _really_ cute, walking through the tapestry room, and I made Ed send me his member scans for the day so I could google all of the ones that sounded like a cute dude.”

Isak knew he should reprimand Kim for that violation of privacy and actual fireable offense, but his curiosity got the best of him. “Did you find him?”

“No. Almost went back to Ed for his credit card receipts, because he was probably a one-timer. Haven’t seen him since, despite several lunch breaks spent upstairs.”

Isak was entertained by Kim’s story but was a little confused. “What exactly prompted this dangerous reveal?”

“You requested the updated member list.” Kim pointed at his computer, referring to the file she emailed him this morning. “I know it’s too late for any changes to the benefit list and you only request it right before the drives. Sounds like you’re trying to track someone down.”

Isak coughed, caught. “That is…very astute of you.”

Kim’s smile was smug, but it quickly twisted into something more teasing. “So…is he cute?”

Isak coughed again and reached for some papers to shuffle on his desk. “I, um…I…I would advise you to get back to work before we reach two fireable offenses for the day.”

With the confidence of someone who had worked for Isak for a year and could recognize an empty threat, Kim stood for a parting jab. “Let me know if you confirm his number and I’ll put it in your contacts.”

Isak gave up on the papers and spun his chair away, looking up through the half window near the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge Kim’s scathing accuracy. His motives behind yesterday’s casual request were revealed, and it was doubly disappointing because his search has been fruitless. Even was not a member of the museum, which meant his visits were individual payments and likely temporary, but more importantly it meant he hadn’t been invited to the benefit. And like Kim had confirmed, it was too late to add him to the list.

He shook his head at himself. He shouldn’t be doing that, inviting a distraction to his work function, let alone wanting one there. As much as he’d love another opportunity to chat with Even, he knew he had a target benefactor list for the night as well as his speech. He wouldn’t have a spare moment for personal pursuits anyway.

With his focus reset, Isak spun back to his computer and filed away the member list. He reopened his half-finished speech and read it from the top. It wasn’t too bad, but he was getting dangerously close to repeating last year’s, and he needed to change it up. If he wanted people throwing money at him that night, he had to give them a fresh show.

* * *

On Tuesday morning Isak ignored his own repeated warnings about being subtle and headed up to the gallery before it opened. He even beat Sylvie to her post. She gave a little yelp when she noticed him on her way to her chair. “Isak! Oh I thought you were a burglar.” She pressed a palm to her chest. “If I could run I would’ve been at the alarm in seconds.”

Isak smiled at the image of Sylvie shuffling to press the alarms hidden by the doorway to each room. “I’m not here to steal anything. Just adding a couple of stools.” He had set up Even’s in the third room, but after a minute of contemplation, he went back and fetched one for himself. 

“Is there an event? I didn’t see a notice about it.”

“No, I just have a…friend, who is working on a Degas sketch. I wanted to make it a little more comfortable for him.”

“Oh.” There was a hint of worry in her voice, as Isak was breaking protocol, and she wasn’t sure if it was her place to call him on it. Isak didn’t give her a chance though, continuing back to the room with the second stool in tow.

Chris was just settling into his chair when Isak entered as well. “That guy is coming back?”

Isak set the stool down next to the first, but then shifted it to his left, adding a respectable amount of space between the two. “I think so. Hasn’t it been his habit?” Isak fished for details. Chris just shrugged.

“Maybe? I can’t recall if I’ve seen him before last week, but I’m not great with faces.”

Isak let out a small sigh. That wasn’t the best detail to reveal to a superior, that you have trouble recognizing the very thing you’re supposed to be observing every day. But it’s not like Even was a person of interest; perhaps it was for the best that he melted into the background, at least from a security point of view. “Well, I hope he shows up. Then I won’t have done this for nothing. Was it any trouble, having the stool last week?” Isak was hopeful Chris was paying attention to that disruption, at least.

“Oh no, it was fine. After he left no one else sat down. I think everyone just assumed it was another piece of art, or part of the display. I started making up funny stories in case anyone asked, but no one did before you came back upstairs.”

Their conversation halted when a visitor entered, and both of them automatically knew they had to speak in hushed tones. Isak left the stools behind and went to stand by Chris’s chair so they could continue. “Tell me your best one.”

“Obviously it had to be the ghost of Degas, still contemplating his work, since he was supposed to be the only audience for the sculptures. If he is watching them, then we are not.”

“Ah, clever.” Maybe Chris paid attention to other things instead.

“You’ve ruined it though, with your second stool.”

They watched the room as a few more visitors made that slow skate in. They all took the same path, starting along the wall to their left, and not turning to the sculpture until they hit the back wall. By then the stools were between them and the bronze on display. They paid the same respect to the stools as they did the art.

Isak didn’t notice when Even walked in, since he was too focused on the flow of visitors. On his tour he was usually part of the current, so it was refreshing to step out of the way and watch how everything moved past him. Even had slipped into the room and stood on the other side of Chris’s chair, mirroring him right down to the arms crossed over his chest. “Who are we waiting for this time?” Isak jolted, almost stumbling, at the third voice. He inadvertently answered Even’s question when his head snapped toward him.

“You.”

“Oh. But you have two stools now.”

It took Isak a moment to consciously build a conversation. “Me. Uh, for me. I brought a stool so I could sit with you.” Even was staring at him, and it was a challenge to create words when that happened.

“Sit?”

“While you draw.”

“Oh, right. I draw.”

Chris looked up at the two men exchanging stilted sentences. “So…are you going to draw?” he whispered.

This seemed to spur Even forward. “Yes.” He broke eye contact and walked over to his stool. Isak followed. The few people in the room took notice of the men who seemed to have an authority over the stools, claiming them without question. Maybe they were part of the art.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“No, please.” Even gestured to the stool that Isak was already perched on. He shrugged off his backpack and fished out his notebook, flipping quickly to a fresh page. Isak was torn between moving closer to enable a quiet conversation and moving further away for silent observation. He settled for a slight lean toward Even, unable to resist his gravitational pull.

“How long have you been coming here?” Before Even could answer, Isak amended his question. “Wait, is this okay? Can we talk while you draw?”

“It’s fine with me, but feels a little strange here. Shouldn’t we be quiet?” Their voices matched Chris’s whisper, barely audible over the scratch of Even’s pencil on the page. They both looked at the sculpture instead of each other, united, at least, by that one purpose.

“Oh, well, you know me. Always breaking the rules.” Isak smirked at his own small joke, but realized it didn’t work when Even’s pencil stopped.

“I don’t know you.”

The words were sharp but the tone was kind, a simple observation, perhaps an invitation. It inspired a burst of honesty in Isak. “That’s true. I’ve spent so much time looking at your Instagram that I forgot we were strangers.”

The pencil resumed, now accompanied by a chuckle. “I know you work here and wear a suit…all the time. And that you’re a rule-breaker.”

“That’s everything. You could write my biography. I know that you’re an amazing artist and live with a man named Eskild and you have a striking blue couch.”

“Thank you.”

Isak gave Even a sideways glance, waiting for him to take the bait on Eskild. He wanted clarification on their relationship but didn’t want to ask for it outright. That seemed more like a question for when you had a drink in your hand and were shouting over music instead of whispering around art. He didn’t offer any details though, just kept drawing. Isak steered the conversation away from his failed attempt. “So this is practice?”

“Practice. Kind of like a calibration. Resetting my eye each week, and a break from the tablet and stylus.”

“Every Tuesday morning?” He had to look again to catch Even’s nod. “And how long have you been coming here?”

“Maybe…six months? Over the summer my work schedule changed so I have Tuesdays off. I have to work weekends, but this lets me come when the museum is quiet.”

Isak felt a twinge of guilt, that he was interrupting the quiet Even was pursuing, but it wasn’t enough for him to apologize. Even had said it was fine. It also seemed like he wasn’t causing too much of a disruption, because Even was filling the page with a defined rendering. He was fast and sure. “That’s a nice thing about the museum being closed on Mondays; I’m much more productive when I don’t have to worry about the gallery, so it feels like I’m working on a weekend, almost.”

They were quiet for a bit, having reached an agreement about alternative office hours, not sure what the next topic should be. Because they were both occupied though, it wasn’t an awkward silence. Even’s eyes were darting between the sculpture and his paper. Isak’s eyes were darting between the sculpture and Even.

“So, you said this exhibit is closing. Is that because of you? Is it your job to take away the art?”

Isak picked up on the tease. “Technically. But I also get it here in the first place. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be sketching anything.”

“Ah. Well what comes next? What will you bring in to replace the Degas-shaped hole you’re forming in my heart?”

“If you’re so attached you can follow this one back to America. But we’re actually clearing out the freestanding works to make space for our annual member benefit. After that we’re going to build some temporary walls to display a selection of Millets. That will start right after the holidays. Do you paint?”

“Occasionally. But I haven’t painted here. Just sketches.”

“And for those, only sculptures?”

“It helps if it’s three-dimensional since that’s mostly what I work in. But if I have a 2D project then sketching flat helps me finesse my shadows and angles.”

Isak wanted to pull out his phone and start typing notes as if he were planning his next exhibit around Even. Hell, he was already editing the current one around him, so the urge made sense. “Do you always work in digital?”

“At my agency, yes. Before I landed there I was doing freelance projects, and some of those were pencil, pastel, paint…. But I stopped taking commissions once I had steady work, so now I just practice when I can so I don’t get rusty.”

“Have you always done animation? Is that what you studied?”

“Officially I studied illustration. The animation came later, self-taught.”

The quiet conversation moved quickly, Even responding to Isak’s onslaught of questions as fast as he asked them. There was something about his sketching that let Isak drive the topics, as if he had control simply because his hands were free. “Anything I’ve seen, beyond your Instagram?”

“Do you play games?”

“Like….?” Isak mimed using a console controller, which forced Even to look away from his sketchpad for a moment. He snorted at the limited explanation.

“Yes, those. Adventure and role-playing games, mostly. Or that’s what I prefer working on. The agency does just about any genre.”

“Cool.” He didn’t play games, so he wasn’t quite sure what Even was talking about and definitely wouldn’t have recognized his work, but it was impressive nonetheless. He just wish he could’ve been more eloquent about it. “I…don’t play though.”

“Not at all?”

“I used to play sports, football, when I was a teenager but then I think I grew out of it.”

“Well it’s not for everyone.”

“Do you play?”

Even laughed. “Of course.”

The laugh was sudden and beautiful, even if it was slightly mocking Isak’s question. It echoed in the room impolitely, but Isak wanted to hear it again and again and again.

“I don’t know, for some people work is work. They might be good at something, but it isn’t what they prefer to participate in during their free time.”

“Do you…curate in your free time?”

“Hah, um…not really. If I’m going to other museums it ends up being more of a research project than as like, a casual visitor. And I don’t think I collect art. I have stuff on my walls but nothing on this level. I’m better at talking to people who own art rather than owning it myself.”

“I guess I should own some art then.”

Before Isak could figure out what Even meant, Even had stood up. He was still sketching but it looked like he was focused on finishing what he was doing, not needing the reference anymore. He circled the statue slowly, just like he had done on the first day. Isak remained seated, still only able to watch Even.

He came to rest opposite Isak, the sculpture between them. His stance was wide, a bit unnatural looking, but supportive. Even held his pad across his left forearm, and he shifted it slightly when he covered different parts of the page. He resumed that slow nod between his pad and the sculpture as he drew.

Even was too far away to have a conversation now. Isak wasn’t sure what he should do. Even seemed settled on this new perspective, this new form to draw, which would probably keep him there for another half hour. Isak could move the stools around to meet him, but if Even actually wanted to sit down he probably would have taken the stool with him. And Isak didn’t want to give the impression that he was chasing Even, despite everything else he’d done thus far. So he stayed where he was, straightening his posture now that he couldn’t lean toward Even, and looked at the sculpture.

He wondered how it would end up on the page. He wondered which curves Even would choose, which details he would pull out. Glimpses of his first sketch had revealed a fixation on the face, but he didn’t know what drew Even to the back of the dancer.

It was why Isak had chosen to position the sculpture this way, so it faced the back wall, instead of the front of the room where people entered and exited. He didn’t want people seeing the face first and dismissing the sculpture before turning to the paintings. With it slightly obscured, people would have to enter the room and consider other art first, delaying that initial judgment. They had to approach the sculpture before they could determine its worth. Isak hadn’t thought the back was the most valuable, most interesting way to look at the dancer, so he was forcing the viewer to seek it out. This was the first step in creating any value at all.

Isak’s vision had gone a bit blurry as he got lost in his own thoughts. His eyes focused on nothing as he contemplated the art without seeing it. But then he noticed that Even had moved slightly, and was less obscured by the sculpture. It made sense, if he was still refining his angles, but when Isak looked to him, looked beyond the art, he saw Even doing the same.

Oh.


	5. Even

Even burst into an empty apartment. He dropped everything at the door: shoes, backpack, hat, coat, scarf. He was on a mission and everything was in his way. He rushed to the living room and landed rather inelegantly on the couch. In front of him on the coffee table was a mountain of unclaimed mail, about three-months worth. Most of the time Noora kept the pile tidy and small, but it had been building up while she was busy with work and both Eskild and Even preferred to ignore it. Nothing ever good came in the post anyway.

Except Even remembered seeing a letter from the museum. It was a while ago, but he was pretty sure he was remembering correctly because it had been in a fancy envelope with Noora’s name on it in handwritten calligraphy. He quickly did an initial scan of the pile for anything to stand out. When that wasn’t enough, he started sorting: four piles of mail, one for each of them and the fourth for obvious junk.

Eskild was walking in just as Even was finishing up. “While you’re in the tidying up mood, I suggest taking a look at whatever has happened in the hall here.” Eskild waved his hand at the mess Even had left behind.

“I’m sorting the mail. I’ll pick up my shit when I’m done. Did you know you have just…so many credit cards?”

“Well you don’t have them if you don’t pay them off.”

“Nope, not how these things work.” Even waved a handful of past-due bills.

“It’s just a waste of paper. I do everything online anyway.” Eskild walked over and snatched them from Even’s hand. Even offered up the rest of his pile as well.

“Then you should tell them to stop sending you your bills in the mail. Save a tree.”

“Ride a cowboy.” Eskild disappeared into his room, arms full. Even heard the pile of paper cascade to the ground after the door closed. He sighed.

The last of the mail ended up in Noora’s pile, and none of it was a fancy envelope. He scooped up her pile and went to the kitchen for a spare plastic bag. He put the mail in the bag and went to her room, where he hung it on her door handle. Even was tempted to take a peek into her room to see if maybe she’d already picked up the envelope on her own, but knew it would be a bad move. Even if he did find it he wouldn’t be able to explain the violation of privacy when he would eventually have to ask her about it. He decided to wait until she was home and just ask her about it then. It was his only hope.

His visit at the museum had turned into a rather pleasant morning, chatting with Isak for a bit and then sketching him from a distance. He wasn’t sure if Isak knew he was being sketched, but he hadn’t left his stool while Even moved around the sculpture. Even had expected him to leave once he was out of talking distance, but he just remained in the same position—relaxed, perched—until Even had returned. They waited for a lull in the visitors before moving their stools a quarter turn around the sculpture and Even started a different sketch on a new page. It was even more relaxing than his usual sessions because Isak provided the perfect amount of stimulation: a conversation to focus on, a new body to draw, an anchor in his mind’s swirl. Time passed unnoticed, but he had closed his sketchpad on four pages of different drawings, an accomplishment. When he flipped through them on his bus ride home, he noticed they had a slightly different feel from his earlier practice. They were more confident. He didn’t know if it was because he was actually more confident in what he was drawing, because by now he’d spent a month with this particular dancer, or if it was because he was more confident in front of Isak. If he was thinking about Isak, he wasn’t second-guessing his own lines.

Even went back to the hallway to gather his things. He hung up his hat, coat, and scarf, then brought his backpack to his room. He dug out his sketchpad for another flip-through. Then he tore out the page of Isak. Even stared at the confidence. He set it aside on his desk. He would take it to the office tomorrow and file it away with his other reference drawings of him, a secret at the back of a cabinet.

Isak had been polite and not asked to see his sketches, nor did he hover over Even’s shoulder for a good look. Maybe he wasn’t terribly interested, or maybe he understood that his sketchpad wasn’t meant for an audience. Even didn’t try to hide it, nor did he get upset when Eskild wanted to look, but it wasn’t his best work, and lacked refinement. He didn’t want Isak to see that. He had chosen his outfit with care and checked his hair in the bathroom before going up to the gallery; he was relatively polished for once, and didn’t want his process work to ruin that illusion.

Even started stripping. He had enough energy to get some chores done, but he wasn’t going to do it in his nice outfit. He hung up his pants and swapped it all for comfortable pajamas. His first thought was to do some laundry, to pick out the outfit he’d wear next week and make sure it was washed and wrinkle-free. But then he remembered the mail he’d just sorted, and his own bills that needed to be addressed. He walked back out to the living room to open all of the wrong envelopes.

* * *

Noora came home just as Even was washing his dishes after a late dinner. He was excited he was able to catch her before he went to bed, but tried to play it cool. “You’re home early.”

She tossed a half-eaten pizza onto the table and shrugged out of her coat. “Hit a wall.” She sighed, a gust of exhaustion hitting Even from all the way across the kitchen. “And no one really responds to your emails this close to midnight. Did you eat dinner?”

Even held up the pan he was washing as evidence.

“Oh. Well you’re welcome to some pizza if you want.”

“Save it for breakfast.”

She let out a single “Ha!” and picked up the pizza again. “Might as well.” She walked to the fridge.

“Hey um…weird question.” Even felt like she was about to disappear to her room, so he had to stop her. “You know your museum membership?”

“Yeah. Is it about to run out? I can renew it for you if you want.”

“No, not yet. I was actually wondering if, as part of that membership, if you were invited to their benefit next week.”

“There’s a benefit next week? For what?”

“Members. And potential donors.” Isak had given him a general overview of what was going to happen, how they were changing up some of the exhibits for the special night. It an annual perk for members and an elegant show for the donors they were courting.

“Oh, I didn’t realize.”

“I thought maybe you got an invitation in the mail.”

“Ugh, the mail. I haven’t looked at it lately.” Noora walked out of the kitchen, ostensibly to check the coffee table. Even finished rinsing the pan and heard her little noise of shock when she saw it was empty. He wiped his hands on the back of his pants and joined her.

“I sorted it.”

“Thank you. Did you give Eskild his bills? I try to do it every couple of weeks because he always ignores them.”

“Yeah. Not sure if he took care of them, but they’re at least in his room.”

“I’ll remind him tomorrow.” Noora noticed the bag hanging on her door. “I’m guessing you didn’t find it then?” She went over to the bag and shot him a knowing smile over her shoulder.

“Nothing from the museum.”

“Let me check my room. Maybe I had picked it up on my own.” She waved for him to follow.

Even trailed her into her room, respectfully entering a place he’d only seen a few times since he’d moved in. It was cozy and clean, a sanctuary compared to his own sty. Everything seemed in its place so he wasn’t quite sure where else Noora had to look, but she shuffled through some things on her bookshelf.

“Ah! Here!” She whipped out the fancy envelope Even had been looking for. “At least I hope it’s the invitation.” 

Even stepped close. He couldn’t imagine why the museum would use calligraphy on anything other than an invitation, but he also tried to keep his own hope in check. Noora tucked a fingernail under the flap and slid it open with the crackle of dried adhesive. She pulled out the card and they both read it silently, mouthing the words.

“Well this sounds…elegant.”

“Yeah,” Even breathed. 

Then Noora snapped her head up and held the invitation to her chest. “So, why is it so important that I got an invitation to this?”

Even stumbled, not aware that his desperation had been so obvious, enough for Noora to realize she was holding a trump card. “I…uh, a friend is going. And it made me curious, if you were invited, if you were going as well.”

Noora narrowed her eyes, then looked down at the invitation again. “Friday….” Even stepped back, not wanting to pressure a response, lest it be the one he didn’t want. “Maybe. It’s black tie.” She chewed on her lip. “I would need to find a gown.” Even leaned in again to read the invitation. Maybe if Noora went he could go as her date, if she had a plus one. That would actually be a little nicer than trying to steal the invitation completely, because then he wouldn’t be the idiot at a fancy event by himself.

“If you go I’d love to escort you. I mean, if you didn’t have someone else in mind already.”

She gave him a soft smile. “Even, I didn’t know about this whole thing until two minutes ago. That’s not quite enough time for me to find a date. But let me think about it first, okay? This is right before the holidays and I don’t know how stressed I’ll be at work, if I can file before Christmas.”

“Okay.”

“Here, go hang this on the fridge so I don’t forget. I need to get some sleep.”

Noora handed Even the card and he took it as if it were a golden ticket. He stared at it for a moment before Noora had to physically shoo him out the door. “Right, sorry.” Even carried the invitation carefully to the kitchen and cleared a space for it on the door to the refrigerator. He tried to find an appropriate magnet to hold it in place, something without a penis on it. Then again, a penis might be appropriate. Eventually he chose the Eiffel tower, a souvenir from one of Noora’s trips. Or as Eskild liked to call it: un pénis.

* * *

Even didn’t see Noora for three whole days after the discovery of the invitation. It taunted him from the kitchen, all the way to his office. He’d memorized every word and saw it when he closed his eyes. It was torture, but he waited, still not wanting to push Noora away. Besides, until he had an answer, he still had hope.

He hadn’t talked to Isak about any of it either, not feeling bold enough to invite himself to something he didn’t have a right to be at. It also wasn’t the end of the world if he didn’t attend; he knew where to find Isak if he wanted to see him again. But he wanted a chance to see Isak out of his suit, or at least in a different one, a chance to watch him seduce someone else for a change. He’d scrolled through his Instagram profile for what felt like the thousandth time, back to December of last year, and found a photo of him in a tuxedo smiling from a dais. It must’ve been the benefit, unless his Christmas parties tended to involve black tie and speeches. He’d turned his sketch from Tuesday, of Isak slightly slumped over on the stool, into another animation: a fancy, hungover Isak, bowtie dangling around his neck, the first few buttons on his shirt undone, bags underneath his eyes. When he raised his head though, and that gaze hit Even, he was still just as handsome. He wore alcohol well.

That’s what Even wanted a chance to see too: Isak undone. By Friday the invitation felt like a promise.

And it was slightly overwhelming. Which was why Even found himself in his usual seat at Eskild’s bar, telling him about Isak in fits and starts, as he had time between customers.

“Can we rewind a bit though? We have contact on Instagram—great—and a few hours on Tuesday of sketching. And that’s it, correct?”

“Well when you put it that way, I sound crazy.”

“No honey, you do that all on your own.” Eskild tapped Even’s phone screen, where the latest animation was looking up at them. “But there’s nothing wrong with crazy. I do it three times a week.”

Even glanced down at the bar, to where Eskild’s next dose of crazy was waiting for a hit of attention. He was only halfway through his cocktail so Even felt like he could monopolize Eskild a bit longer. “But am I really being crazy about this? All I can think about is that invitation, going back to the museum to see him again, and then…I don’t know. Something. But it feels like my whole life depends on being able to make that happen.”

“Maybe it does.” Eskild shrugged, open to that possibility. He stepped away as another customer waved him down.

Even didn’t want to be crazy. He didn’t want to be obsessed. He didn’t want to depend on…anything. He wanted to keep moving through his days, just keep moving, adding steps to his characters and stories so they could accomplish something when he himself couldn’t. Instead he was fixating on one person who couldn’t move beyond a glance, and dreaming up a fake world around him. There were words that neither of them said and emotions that didn’t exist, truths that they didn’t share.

But god, the promise of it all made him feel drunk. It was more powerful than the drinks Eskild poured for him, but the mix of both still helped pass the time.

Eskild returned. “Have we slid into his DMs yet? Let him know you’ve rubbed a few out to a photo from three years ago?”

Even reeled back in disgust. “I haven’t done either of those things.” His drawings, his dreams, remained acceptable for general audiences.

“Fine, tell him _I've_ done that. You maintain your innocence and immediately remind him of sex.”

Even watched as Eskild dipped his head, understanding something now. “Is that what you tell men on Grindr? Do you tell them I think they’re hot, like you’re just the messenger?”

Eskild kept his head lowered, but a smile was creeping up. Then he thumbed over his shoulder at his date. “Works like a charm.”

“Eskild!”

Eskild shrugged, unapologetic as usual. Even didn’t have anything to throw at him, but he was quick to think of a return. It was easy enough to make eye contact with the guy, as he was tracking Eskild’s every move, so with an extended stare Even made a move. He sent him an appraising smile, hopefully reinforcing what Eskild had already told him. Then came the wink.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Eskild stood up straight, watching Even, then whipping around to see how his date responded. He had dropped his own head in a bashful smile, flattered by the attention, the competition.

“What’s his name? Curls? Thick Dick?”

“It’s none of your business, is what it is.”

“Bit of a mouthful, but I’m sure I could yell it out in bed when the time comes.”

“Even. You’re going to break his heart if you play this stupid game. Look, I’ll stop using that line. I won’t use you as my hook anymore. Just please, stop winking.”

“I don’t know. This is fun. I’m getting in some practice.” Making eyes at the guy _was_ fun, and Even was loosening up. He hadn’t flirted like this in a long time, and it was exciting to get such an eager response, even though Eskild had already done the heavy lifting. The first line was always such a challenge, the one with the highest risk.

“Come on, I’m trying to get a blowjob here, not mend a broken heart at three in the morning. That always involves many more drinks on the house too.”

“Fine, I’ll stop.” Even gestured to Eskild then, presenting him, making a recommendation as if he had already given it a taste and knew they would pair well together. The guy looked kind of confused, but seemed to work it out in the time it took Eskild to walk over and begin an apology for both of them. Released from the guy’s stare, he rolled his shoulders, stretching his unused flirting muscles. It was innocent fun, at most an added challenge for Eskild to overcome. He was sure he’d be woken up by the sounds of None Of Your Business come early morning anyway, so Even took this as payment in advance.

Alone again, he returned to his phone. He swiped away the animation and resisted opening Instagram. He would be too tempted to actually try sliding into Isak’s DMs, which, three drinks in on a Friday night, primed for flirting, would send a very clear message. And he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to send that just then. He needed to keep things innocent, not feed the flames of his obsession. Coming to the bar in the first place was a step in the wrong direction, but visiting Eskild was rarely a step in the right direction no matter what. Still, he stayed seated, enjoying his drink and keeping tabs on Eskild’s progress with quick glances.

Then Even was blessed with a text, a photo from Noora. His whole body tensed when he opened it, when a promise had been delivered.

_Find a tux that goes with this dress. Pick me up at 5._


	6. Isak

In spite of the personal tour scheduled in his calendar, Isak was called away on Tuesday morning to the storage lockers. He had arrived earlier than most of the staff, and it was all hands on deck as a delivery was being made. Isak had to oversee the transportation of the art, assess its condition, and check it into their inventory. He carried his coffee through the maze of basement hallways. He felt the chill of the morning seeping in through the stone and tile, until he entered the temperature-controlled lockers and he was hit with warm, dry air. Isak took long strides through the lockers to the loading docks at the back, following the loud voices of big men moving heavy things.

“Cutting it close, eh?” Geir was already at the truck, still in his overcoat and gloves, ready to oversee Isak overseeing everything.

“Perfect timing. We didn’t have space for this until we sent the Munro busts back.” He defended his negotiations to his boss. He had had a bit of worry since he didn’t leave himself any wiggle room for mistakes, but everything was rolling out according to plan. They’d have a couple of Thorvaldsen statues prepared just in time for a reveal at the benefit. He watched their crates tremble on the forklift as it moved from the truck to the dock, and didn’t let himself breathe until two workers unscrewed the sides and let the stuffing spill out. At a glance, they were intact.

And they were majestic.

Isak had bargained hard for these, going back and forth with Thorvaldsen’s museum for months, just to have the statues for a week. The statues themselves weren’t expensive, but the limited amount of time bulked up the cost of the exchange. Isak had to make sure the benefit would be worth it.

He circled the statues as the workers continued to unpack them and clear off the dust of travel. He gave a nod and their specialized forklift moved in to carry the statues into a storage locker, where prep would begin before it went upstairs. Without a display platform Isak was looking down at the figures, but they didn’t need size to make his mouth slack in awe. He felt their power, and conjured it out of the marble for himself. 

Geir clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, leaving the docks. “Can’t wait to see them upstairs. Can you grab Camilla when you’re done here and join me in my office? I’d like to run through our lists for Friday.”

“Of course.” Isak checked his watch. The museum was open, Even likely headed to capture Degas’s last breath at that very moment. He wouldn’t be able to join him, like he had wanted to, let alone get a stool in place in time. The next time he had a free minute he would have to apologize somehow. Maybe race upstairs to catch him. He went into the inventory office and logged on, needing to familiarize himself with the process again before inputting the two statues.

* * *

Isak missed Even on Tuesday, and it was strange how much it felt like a deep loss. He had run upstairs after his meeting with Geir and Camilla, but Chris reported the disappointing news. “He left about fifteen minutes ago.” Isak’s shoulders dropped, and he stared at the back of the sculpture. “I offered to get him a stool, since I figured you’d vouch for me if I got in trouble, but he declined. Said he draws better without one.”

“Really?” Isak tried to keep his voice at a whisper, but his disappointment doubled down and got loud.

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“Bright side, now you don’t have to worry about a stool anymore.”

Isak mustered up a smile for Chris. “Thanks, man. Probably for the best that I didn’t spend two hours in the gallery anyway.” He pushed back the front panels of his jacket and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. He wasn’t quite sure what to do next, since he hadn’t been able to focus beyond catching Even. It was just about lunch time so he figured he could do a quick walk through the rest of the gallery, a gloss of a tour, and then grab something to eat.

“Ready for Friday?” Chris asked when he turned to go. Isak couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Never. Are you working it?”

“Serving, not security. Chance to run around instead of sitting on my ass.”

“Nice. It should be fun. Stressful, but fun.” Reminded of all the tasks he still needed to cross off his list, Isak gave him a salute and headed into Sylvie’s room. His lunch break was going to be short.

* * *

It took Isak two days to craft the perfect message to send to Even on Instagram, and by Thursday he was feeling lame about sending it because by then it had been two days. He was also annoyed by how long it took because he’d researched and written entire loan proposals in less time. He opened his apology with an apology.

_Sorry I’m just sending this now, but I wanted to apologize for both not getting you a stool on Tuesday and getting you a stool on the other Tuesdays. I just assumed you would need one, but you clearly do your best work standing up. I was busy with benefit prep, but I hope your last day with Degas went well._

An entire hour was dedicated to waffling between using an exclamation mark and a period. He was tempted to run it past Kim, who was good at short messages and captions, but didn’t want to add anything to her one-woman rumor mill. He went with a period, to play it cool.

Typing bubbles popped up and disappeared for about ten minutes after his message was read, but nothing came back. After an hour Isak locked his phone in his desk drawer. A minute later he opened Instagram on his computer and checked for any activity.

Luckily Friday kept Even off his mind by simply being the busiest day of his year. He picked up his tuxedo from the dry cleaners as soon as they opened and carried it to the office. He hung it on the back of his door, tugging the plastic away.

“We have two steamers in the cubicles if you need them, though Camilla has dibs on one for the entire evening.”

“As expected.”

“Fancy.” Kim appraised his tuxedo, a slight upgrade from last year’s but nothing particularly noticeable unless you were up close. Isak bundled up the plastic cover and shoved it into his recycle bin.

“I’ll probably be upstairs most of the day, so text me if you need anything. Oh, and I approved the labels last night—“

“Yes, those are ready.” Kim spun out of his office to fetch the labels for the two statues. She returned before Isak had a chance to turn on his computer.

“I don’t even know why I’m bothering with this,” Isak mumbled at his desktop. He didn’t have anything on his calendar, and all he was going to spend his day doing was going through his punch list in the gallery before it was time to freshen up and change. Still, he waited for the screen to come to life. He picked up the labels from where Kim had slid them onto his desk. “These look great, thanks. Are you guys set with the lists?”

Kim nodded. “Lists were imported, iPads are charging.” She anticipated what else Isak was going to ask about and ran through a short list from memory. “Caterers are arriving right about now. Tables and chairs are in place but need to be set up. I’m steaming linens next. Lighting is doing a run-through at 11. Sound check at noon.”

Isak let out a relieved sigh. “Thanks.” He never doubted Kim’s handle on the day’s tasks but it was still reassuring to know a second brain was obsessing over the same things he was.

Rather, most of the same things.

As Isak went upstairs and cycled through the gallery most of the day, Even hovered at the back of his mind. He had plenty he should’ve been thinking about, if not the tasks at hand, but apparently Even was the most important thing he needed to address once the benefit was out of the way. Not the ongoing negotiations with Hubert, the copy for their spring brochure, or the summer programming that he and Camilla were struggling with. So while he helped set up tables and iron napkins, he strategized his next message to Even, which he would deploy if his Tuesday tour was fruitless.

“Are you okay?” Kim asked as they descended back to the offices, nothing else left to do in the gallery.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been quiet.”

It was a fair observation. Usually when Isak was hanging out with the assistants, rolling up his sleeves to help get a physical job done, he was relaxed and chatty, making the work go quickly and subtly getting valuable feedback from his team. But he’d been quiet, not engaging in their conversations unless he had to answer a question. “Just…running the speech, trying to memorize it.” Isak did not clarify which speech he’d been focusing on the whole day.

“Maybe we should do teleprompters next year.”

“No, that’s a waste. I can certainly manage with the cards you made.”

The basement was noisy, sound echoing around them, the scurry of backstage right before a show greeting them. People were flowing in and out of the bathrooms, entering in business casual and exiting in formal, returning with toothbrushes and mascara. Kim and Isak split off in separate directions toward their makeshift closets.

Isak’s tuxedo was still hanging well, so he didn’t need to wrench a steamer from Camilla’s finely manicured hands. He locked his door and stripped naked. He pulled on the pair of clean briefs he kept as a back-up in his desk drawer, swapped out his usual dress socks for no-shows, and was about to pull on his shirt when he remembered his shoes. He sat at his desk for a quick buff and polish. He was chasing money tonight, so he had to look like he already had it.

Isak had a mirror and could finish getting dressed in his office, but he went to the men’s room to tuck in his shirt and put on his bowtie, in the small chance that there was someone in there who could help him with the latter. Last year he’d only managed to do it with the help of a Youtube tutorial, and in the press photos he could see how poorly he’d executed it. No one was at the sink though, so he returned to the cubicles and asked the room. Another curatorial assistant stepped up and Isak patiently stood on display while the young man nervously tugged around his collar.

Camilla stepped out of her office, ready to receive compliments from her subordinates. She had left around midday to get her hair done, and Isak had to admit that it was a striking yet polished style paired with her black column dress. Isak sent his compliments across the floor. After getting her fill, she joined his side. “Have your list?”

“Yes. I’m slightly concerned I won’t recognize them all dolled up though. I barely managed everyone last year.”

They both had a list of targets they had to hit up throughout the evening, for flattery and in-depth conversations. It was enough people to keep them busy and circulating throughout the night, so the schmoozing wasn’t obvious, but that just meant they had to be precise with their identification and execution. “Let’s check in with each other in case we’re missing anyone or need help stepping away.”

“Is there a code word?” Bowtie in place, Isak was channeling James Bond. Also any opportunity to introduce a game into the evening was welcome. “How’s it look?”

Camilla leaned back to take in his full outfit. “Classic. And no code word. The desperation on my face should be enough.”

“True.” Isak walked back to his office to check his mirror and grab his phone. He spun around the space checking to see if there was anything else he should bring upstairs with him. He folded his dirty outfit and dropped it into his desk drawer. He pulled out a pocket comb from a smaller drawer and debated how necessary hair touch-ups would be throughout the evening.

“Twenty minutes until doors. Places, please!” Camilla yelled to anyone within earshot. Isak heard heels clicking on tile. He pulled on his coat and joined the exodus.

* * *

Thirty minutes in and Isak had already ticked two targets off of his list without moving more than ten feet from the bar. He shouldn’t have been hiding so far deep in the rooms, but he wasn’t as comfortable hovering around empty tables at the front, waiting for someone to approach him or pouncing on a target at first sight. So he hung out at the bar, taught a bartender how to serve him water that looked like a gin and tonic, and let the guests come to him mid-sip. This gave him a great opener as well, since they would have passed the two new statues on their way, and he could begin with their first impressions.

Isak was doing well, feeling confident. He grouped his two current targets together and excused himself. “As much as I’d prefer to spend the whole evening with you, I have a few other rooms to cover. I’ll come find you again for dinner.” He refreshed his water and made his way toward the front rooms, scanning the crowd for his next hit.

He paused to greet a couple of gallerists, not his targets, but allies nonetheless. They were admiring the statues Isak had brought in, if not for the art then for the obvious effort it had taken him. “Impressive the lengths you’ll go for your donors, Isak.” Isak shared a chuckle and a wink. It made the evening slightly more enjoyable when he didn’t have to pretend they were throwing this whole party for any reason besides money. He pretended himself, when he needed to add a sense of integrity to all of the effort he put in to making rich people feel important. But it was nice to be able to drop the façade right in the middle of it.

Isak was about to move on when a vision of a gown flowed into the room, a deep navy in a lightweight fabric that breathed with the impossibility of a dress carved out of stone. The woman wearing it had a blonde bob, slicked back, and a pout dipped in the red of a fresh wound. She smiled when she entered, and the gleam of her teeth as her lips pulled back looked like something out of a commercial: slow and subconsciously sexual. She hadn’t seen Isak when she walked in, but it was as if she knew he was watching her, because the next thing she did was turn around to face the doorway she had just entered. Despite the noise of the room, the small talk and clatter of drinks, he could hear her dress swish across the floor in an arc. It was showing off for him. Camilla would be jealous.

The dress was waiting for its partner, and Isak was wholly unprepared for when he stepped into the room. Isak's legs were not strong enough, his grip on the glass was not tight enough, his lungs were not fast enough to keep up with the beating of his heart and the rush of adrenaline that happened whenever he saw Even. So when he appeared, blond hair slicked back as well, a pout to put all of the others to shame, Isak’s legs gave out. His glass slipped. He gasped and stumbled away from the crash.

“S-shit.” Isak crouched down to hide his face and pick up the large pieces of his highball glass. Chris was by his side almost instantly with a dustpan and brush. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Are you okay?” Chris swept it up quickly and quietly. Isak set the large pieces into the pan.

“Yes, just got…frightened.”

“Did the statues move?”

Isak was grateful for the joke. He wanted to hide in it. He wanted to stay on the floor cracking jokes with Chris until the room emptied. But then Chris was done, getting every last slippery ice cube and sliver of glass, and he stood. So Isak had to stand. He had to stand and look up and meet the eye of the man who had rushed over to him.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Isak was surprised that his voice wasn’t shaking when he replied. “Just shocked. How…how did you get in?” His unexpected ability to disguise the nervous energy still coursing through him made his question come out with more of an accusatory tone than he intended.

The dress stepped out from behind Even to introduce herself. “I’m Noora, Even’s date. We’re not crashing, I promise.” Her smile was slightly less devastating than Even’s, even up close. Isak shook her hand, then Even’s as well when he offered it.

“Sorry, welcome to the museum. Welcome.”

“Noora, this is Isak, he’s a senior curator here. I was explaining to Noora that you’re the reason why my favorite sculpture is gone.”

“Ah! You also must be the reason why Even begged me to come here tonight.”

“Noora!”

Isak laughed, and tried to politely ignore the blush spreading across Even’s cheeks. “Well I’m glad he did, because your dress, you, are a sight to behold. I was admiring it right before I managed to drop my drink.”

“It’s a showstopper, isn’t it? I never do these kinds of things so I went all out.” She swiveled her hips to make the hem swirl across the floor again.

“It looked so heavy from afar, but when you move in it it’s just…lighter than air.”

“If only it felt like that.”

They all laughed. Before any more awkwardness could settle in between them, Isak shifted back into hosting mode. “Anyway, to make all of this elegance even more worth our while, may I introduce you to some marble? Even, perhaps this will make up for the Degas.” He turned to lead them over to the first of the two Thorvaldsen statues. “These are The Graces.” The full name was spelled out on the label that Isak had affixed to the plinth of the statue earlier that day, but he preferred to introduce the three stone women as if they were friends, not goddesses. He watched Even and Noora take in the statues in silence, following where their eyes traveled, where they paused.

Noora’s stayed on the women’s faces. Even craned his neck to get a look at the arrow in their hands, and then he turned to face the opposite side of the room, where a grown Cupid stood on his own pedestal, also holding an arrow in his gaze. When he turned back, he took in the small, younger Cupid at the goddesses’ feet. Isak waited for one of them to say something, if anything. Or he waited for their eyes to slide away, their minds done.

“Do you think they’re afraid of it?” Noora held up her finger to match the one poised over the tip of the arrow, as if testing its sharpness.

“No. I think they’re curious.” He didn’t like giving his interpretation, but he did so when asked for it. Noora was satisfied with his answer, and he heard Even make a small noise, not quite agreement but more than just acknowledgment. Isak looked at him, to let him feel welcome to expand on the noise. But he went quiet for another moment.

Right before Isak was about to lead them away, Even spoke up: “Why did you show us this one first?” Isak’s spine straightened at the question, both because he didn’t expect it and because it sounded so confused. It held a hint of an accusation, similar to his own before. And, rare in his role as curator, he did not have an answer prepared for it.

So he said the first logical thing he could think of. “Chronology, I suppose.”

“Whose?”

Isak whispered, “Thorvaldsen’s,” at the very same moment he realized that he was wrong, the artist’s name fading as soon as it escaped. If Even knew he was incorrect, he didn’t show it; he simply let loose another small sound of acknowledgment. Isak got the impression that Even wasn’t agreeing or disagreeing with him, but granting him permission to continue offering his opinion. There was no judgment in the sound, but that just made Isak curious about the thoughts behind it.

Noora wandered over to the second statue, assuming the direction Isak was about to lead them in. She didn’t so much weave through the crowd of guests as much as they parted a way for her dress. Isak and Even exchanged a look, one that didn’t say anything except for how much they wanted to say something, before following her. Once they reached the second statue of Cupid, Isak hung back and pulled out his phone. He sent a quick text to Kim: _Is there a Nora on the list, already arrived?_

Almost immediately she replied: _No._

Isak slid his phone back into his jacket. When he stepped forward into the small space between Even and Noora, he gently rested his hand below Even’s shoulder to announce his arrival. Even leaned over without taking his eyes off of the statue. “Care to introduce us?”

“Noora, Even, this is Cupid Triumphant.”

* * *

Isak escorted Even and Noora to the bar after they had spent enough time with Cupid. He endured some ribbing from the bartender about being the first casualty of the evening before he got a fresh glass. He left Even and Noora to their own devices, free reign of the museum, with only a mild suggestion to view the new Renoir they just added to their permanent collection. He had his targets to hit before dinner, and precious time had been lost.

Isak also wanted to make a quick detour to Kim at the door, to steal her check-in list. Noora and Even must be on there somehow, because they wouldn’t actually be able to crash the party. Maybe Kim had missed something in the rush.

“Everything okay?” She had seen him approaching and already looked worried.

“Fine. How’s the flow?”

“Manageable. Seems like most people were on time.” 

“Great. Can I borrow your iPad for a minute?”

Kim stepped away from the door to take herself out of commission for checking IDs. She handed over the tablet and took an inviting stance toward the middle of the front hall. She began ushering guests toward the coatroom, bathroom, or gallery as they approached.

Isak carried the tablet off to a corner. He started with the guest list, searching again for “Nora” and then for “Even.” Unwilling to admit that he might just have to scroll through the whole thing and read every name, he paused to think of an alternative. And then he remembered Instagram. He pulled out his phone again and opened Even’s profile. He jumped to a photo that included Noora, chasing her tag until he found her name in a caption. “Two Os. Shit.” He shoved his phone away and searched again. There was Noora, the only one. She and a guest were attending on behalf of The Evening News. This explained why they were some of the youngest guests in the whole museum, and why they had been untraceable. The newspaper had a group membership open to employees, and Even must have been taking advantage of Noora’s account. They were sponsoring a table for the benefit, and considering that only eight guests had RSVPd to fill a table of ten, Even must’ve been able to slip in to one of those unclaimed seats. Isak swiped over to the floor plan to see where the newspaper’s table was located, and which employee was assigned to it. He knew it wasn’t himself, so he was at least hoping for the same room. “Yessssss,” Isak hissed, when he saw that DnB, his table, was next to the newspaper’s in the tapestry room. All of his targets in one place.

Kim sidled up to him. “Sounds like your team just scored a goal.”

“What?”

“Your little fist pump.” She pointed to his clenched fist, still raised to his shoulder.

“Oh Jesus. No, I just…found the person I was looking for.”

“Nora?”

“Yes. But two Os. She brought a guest, so we don’t have to worry about their table looking empty.”

“That’s…great!” Kim’s enthusiasm was delayed, if not forced. She explained when Isak gave her a questioning look. “Camilla said if there were any empty seats we could fill them for dinner.”

“And force yourself to an hour of small talk with strangers?”

“Well, it’s good practice, and technically we’ve met everyone already.” She waved her hand at the door.

“Still, even I don’t want to do it. Just steal a plate and go eat downstairs. Then you also won’t have to sit through Geir’s speech.”

“Excellent point.”

Isak handed back the iPad with a conspiratorial smile. He had a feeling Kim would still try to claim a seat, because it was a rare opportunity to mingle with powerful people and show off her knowledge of the museum, which Isak occasionally thought rivaled his own. Her genuine enthusiasm as she hopped back over to the door to resume her job was telling enough. Isak strode toward the stairs, ready to return to the gallery. One mystery had been solved, and a significantly improved evening was just beginning above him.


	7. Even

Even thought he was imagining things. There was the first moment he saw Isak in his tuxedo, which he was convinced was an illusion, until he heard the glass shatter between them. Then there was the mysterious look they exchanged, closely followed by Isak’s hand lingering on his back while they observed Cupid. Then there was the five, six, maybe seven times they bumped shoulders as they moved through the rooms with their separate parties. Drinks in hand and elbows locked, he’d taken Noora on a tour of the gallery, showing her what he came to draw each week and pointing out what was new, what must have been brought in just for the benefit. While they did this, while they pretended to be wealthy patrons appreciating art, Isak was circulating like a proper host, escorting someone new every time they passed, no doubt on his way to introduce them to Cupid as well. Even wasn’t sure how it happened, but his and Isak’s paths crossed multiple times, close enough for physical contact but subtly enough for only Even to notice. Noora kept her eye on the art, running soft commentary throughout each exchange, not registering the man who made Even’s head turn approximately every ten minutes.

All of this seemingly chance contact was getting to Even, and by the time he was ushered to their table and he found he was seated in Isak’s direct line of sight, he felt like the planchette of a Ouija board spelling out a message. He should have been thrilled, because this was the exact reason why he wanted to attend the benefit, to see more of Isak, but he was just mystified. He didn’t know if he was supposed to be weighing these happenings with a sense of purpose, or if he could just relax into the coincidence of it all. Maybe it just seemed like a lot of intention because he hadn’t been in a pursuit situation in such a long time. He tried to keep up pleasant conversation with his table, if only as a distraction from the looks he felt landing on him from across the room.

Noora was leaning in front of him, already settled into a chat with the girl on his left. “And you’ve been working here for a year?”

“Yes. When I’m not playing bouncer I’m an assistant for…well, anything really. I’m working on my PhD, so it’s good to just have this general work experience at the museum.”

“Grunt work is the best education though. You see everything, you learn a lot. At some point, when you climb the ladder, people let their minds close down because they’re expected to teach or just do, instead of learn. No disrespect to the older gentlemen sitting with us at this very table, but…”

The girl laughed. “We have a few of those here too. Not my boss, but yeah. The idea that you could become an expert in something is almost the thing that stops you from actually doing that.”

“I didn’t realize our salads came with a side of philosophical lecture,” Even muttered, overwhelmed by the intensity of the conversation these two relative strangers were engaging in so soon after an hour of frivolous cocktail prattle.

“Please excuse Even. This is what happens when you bring arm candy to a serious event.”

“And please don’t let Noora fool you. Just this afternoon she was prancing around the apartment calling this a prom for art snobs.” Even flipped over his phone to pull up the photos Eskild had taken before they’d left. Noora made them pose in her bedroom, the cleanest backdrop, in a typical American-teenagers-at-prom style. It was like they were spooning, standing up and in formalwear. The girl leaned over to look, giggling a bit at the way they were arguing.

“That’s cute! And that’s kind of what it is. Though there’s a bit more money involved.”

“Not mine. That’s what the older gentlemen are for.”

Even snorted. They were both arm candy for the table.

“Wouldn’t be prom without them!”

The girls broke apart then, giving everyone space and silence to start eating. Even looked around at Noora’s colleagues, wondering if any of them had picked up on her unfiltered judgment. Then he wondered what she thought of him, if he was included in that group of older gentlemen whose minds were shut off from learning. Ignorant arm candy. He could understand if he was; he had spent the last few years sequestering himself in the world of animation, surrounded by experts, as he tried to establish a secure spot among their ranks. He worked with younger people than him, collaborating and teaching, but now he worried that he wasn’t listening.

He knew he gets stuck in his own head sometimes, obsessed with what he's creating. At work it gets praised as focus and drive, but it was also the reason Noora would snap her fingers and groan about narrow-minded men. He didn’t want to be one of those.

Even ate his salad quickly, trying to placate a stomach that had only held alcohol for the past few hours. He moved on to a warm roll with butter. The dinner service was swift, the courses coming out in a steady stream so people never ran out of food to eat or conversation to share. Noora continued to talk with the girl across Even, preferring her company to her colleagues’, but she did well to not completely exclude him. There were times though, when they took tangents that Even couldn’t contribute to, and he let his mind, his eye, wander back to the other table.

Sometimes Isak was staring at him. Sometimes he wasn’t, when he was focused on eating his own meal or carrying his own conversation. Other times he would pause what he was doing for a sip of water, using it as a cover to glance at Even. Even tried to figure out how much intent was in Isak’s glances, and how much was in his own. Was it happening because they wanted it to happen or was it just how two human bodies moved when they were in these two specific locations? Was Isak looking up at him just a…default? He twisted in his chair to see what was behind him; maybe Isak would look at a tapestry, stare at a king in a forest if he weren’t in the way.

When Even twisted back, he noticed Isak was standing, his napkin in one hand and the other hand pushing his chair out behind himself. He continued to stare blatantly, locking onto his form as he abandoned his table-mates, buttoned his jacket, and walked right over to Even. He stood over Even’s left shoulder and smiled down at him.

“Looks like you enjoyed dinner.”

Even managed to tear his eyes off of Isak to confirm that his plate was empty save for his crossed cutlery and a bit of sauce he resisted licking up with a finger.

“Glad you found a seat, Kim.”

Even looked at the girl. Kim. Had he not known her name this whole time? He saw a slight blush, but she seemed to recover quickly.

“Was your food good? I think they went fast. We’re ahead of schedule.” Kim glanced at her watch, a clunky-looking thing that didn't quite fit in with the elegance of the evening.

“Yes, mine was great. My table is happy. I’m going to do a quick walk-through to see how everyone else is doing, make sure Camilla isn’t dying. Then I’m going to go downstairs to rehearse one more time. I’ll come find you to get mic’d up in what…twenty minutes?”

“Yeah, that should work. I have everything stored behind the stage….”

Kim kept talking logistics with Isak but Even had stopped paying attention when Isak said he was going to go downstairs, because right at that moment he felt Isak’s fingers pressing into the back of his shoulder, moving in a small circle. Even didn’t shift or look or acknowledge it in any way, he just felt it and tried to understand why. He could see Isak’s left hand was resting on the back of Kim’s chair, and since his pose hadn’t changed it was fair to assume his right hand had been resting on the back of Even’s chair as well, before it moved up to his shoulder. Was it a signal? Was it a familiar touch like any other, one that you can give a friend but not a coworker? Was he—

The touch was gone. Isak had said something about dessert and then he was walking away. Even looked up, catching the back of his black jacket as it retreated, and then faced forward, not wanting to move lest he lose the ghost of the touch he was still trying to figure out. He focused on his shoulder. Noora was leaning in front of him again. “Isak is your boss?”

“Yes! Do you know him?”

“I just met him this evening, but I think Even has met him before.”

Hearing his own name snapped Even out of his stasis. He pushed his chair back, picking his napkin out of his lap with one hand and bracing himself to stand with the other. “Excuse me.” Kim and Noora looked up, stunned by the sudden burst of movement from their quiet companion. “I have to…go.”

“The bathrooms are down on the lobby level.”

Even nodded, not bothering to correct her. He spun away just like Isak had done, and then he was off. Why question a ghost when you could ask a man?

Isak could have gone two ways out of the room. Even went to the left, opposite the usual flow, a slightly longer distance back to the main staircase. He moved at the pace of a man looking for a bathroom without wanting to appear like he needed it desperately, scanning the rooms as he passed through them, never losing speed. He didn’t know who Camilla was, but figured he’d spot Isak standing next to a table if he had found her, and everyone was still seated, having just been served dessert.

He walked past The Graces and Cupid. He followed their arrows, going back in time, back to the room he first saw Isak in. He wasn’t there. Even kept going. When he turned the corner out of the first room, he froze again. Isak was there, as wished for, as hoped for, and still a surprise. He was standing at the top of the steps. Even heard him take a deep breath as he returned to his staring.

“For the record, you _are_ crashing the party.”

“Are you going to kick me out?”

Isak laughed. And then he turned and started walking downstairs. He moved lightly, almost hopping, and Even watched him go.

He had almost disappeared into the lower level of the lobby when Even’s brain kicked into gear and moved his own feet under him. He breathed out a “Wait,” that Isak didn’t hear as the chase resumed. He had to tread carefully, his unused dress shoes a little too slick on the stone steps, and Isak remained just out of reach.

In the lobby Even caught sight of him disappearing down a smaller staircase. This had a velour rope draped across it, but normally it just had a sign telling visitors to not walk past that point. Apparently that was too gauche for an evening like this, so it was replaced with a more graceful barrier, which Even now had no problem walking around.

He barely paid attention to where he was going, just following Isak down a couple of corridors until it opened up into a wider floor, clearly a group of offices and cubicles. Even strode past desks in disarray, and for the first time felt like he was invading an exclusive space. Maybe he shouldn't have walked past that point. But he was about to lose Isak. He almost missed which door he had gone through, but managed to step inside the right one. Isak’s hand was on his shoulder then, again, pushing him to the side as soon as he entered. The door was shut behind him.

In all of the time he had just spent chasing Isak through the museum, none of it was used to think of something to say. None of it was used in anticipation of this moment, when a touch or a conversation was supposed to happen. All he could do was watch Isak and wait for his cue. _Where else shall I follow you?_

After shutting the door, Isak moved around to face Even. He kept his distance, leaning back against the edge of his desk, almost putting a chair between them. The silence felt like Isak was waiting too. Unable to stand it then, Even filled it with the first thing he thought, the first thing that came to mind when he looked at Isak. “I just want to draw you.”

Isak laughed again, that same laugh from the staircase. He pushed off from the desk, and in a terribly direct fashion, walked right up to Even, stopping only inches away, establishing a closeness that would be unwelcome by anyone else. His eyes flicked from Even’s to his mouth and back. Yes, there was a purpose. He asked, “Is that all?”

Their gazes held while Isak closed the gap, tilting his head just enough so that when he pressed his lips to Even’s their noses barely grazed their cheeks. The touch was so light that Even felt compelled to reach up and cradle Isak’s jaw, hold him in place, not let him fade any further. Isak had to stay there so Even could kiss him again. Even had to hold him there so he could close his eyes and trust his touch.

Nothing faded. The pressure just increased. Even’s hands stayed on the jawline that he had drawn. Isak’s fingers climbed up to Even’s shoulders, pressing another message through his suit. Their mouths closed on each other’s, trapping heat and wet and words that only escaped in rushes. Maybe there were words, or maybe there was just noise, whines when their lips had to separate for a breath, or that sound that Even makes when he wants to ask for more but doesn’t want to be witnessed as asking for more. 

Over the years Even had turned his beg into a granting of permission. It came out like a grunt or a murmur or a huff, instead of a word, and let him retain control of a situation even when he was falling apart. It let him, when he stumbled backward into the closed door of an office, not used to the weight of another man against his chest, keep kissing without wasting a breath, and it let Isak keep kissing without having to ask.

So Even grunted and chased Isak’s lips, sucking on them and tasting a surprisingly fresh mouth. He dragged his fingers across that smooth, strong jaw, then reached for the hair at back of Isak’s neck. The curls were damp and soft, and Even managed to wonder if he would remember that detail when this was all over. Even chased and licked and pulled Isak to him because here was a man he barely knew but was already afraid of having to let him go. He hoped his mouth was saying as much.

Isak’s hands trailed down to Even’s waist. They brushed aside his jacket to get at his shirt, at his skin, but settled for the juncture where fabric overlapped at his hips. They stayed there, thumbs at his hip bones, his fingers pressing into Even’s back, holding him in place whenever Isak had to lean away for a breath. His hands held Even like a bookmark, even though Even wouldn’t dare to turn the page.

Even got comfortable. He relaxed against the door. He stretched his arms over Isak’s shoulders, letting go of his neck, letting them hang in the empty space behind them. He had the loose grip of someone confident that the other person would stay. And it wasn’t necessarily his own confidence—his mouth still moved with the hunger of someone not sure if this lick would be the last—but he felt all of Isak’s weight against him, sandwiching him against the door, from his hips to his lips. That confidence meant he wasn’t going anywhere. Neither of them were.

Until Even felt a knock vibrate between his shoulder blades. Isak said something that sounded like it might be “Fuck,” but got lost because their tongues were still in each other’s mouths.

“Isak? Are you ready?”

Isak pulled his head back but replaced his lips with the palm of his hand to keep Even quiet. He stared at the door. “Let me just comb my hair and I’ll be out in a second,” he yelled over Even’s shoulder. He waited, listening for the woman on the other side. When he thought he heard her move away, he let go of Even’s face. Isak looked Even in the eye.

It was uncomfortable now, after the fact. They looked at each other and faced down the decision they had made, separately and together. Even realized it hadn’t been a good one, for many reasons, least of all because Isak was now trying to hide it. And Even didn’t know how to help him do that, so he remained pressed against the door, silent. He tried to control his breathing so the woman wouldn't hear that either.

Isak stepped away from him, back toward his desk. He didn’t break eye contact until he bumped into a chair. That was when reality seemed to catch up to him, and Isak whipped around to the other side of his desk. He fumbled in a drawer for a moment, then brought out a comb and hastily tugged it through his curls. Even watched it catch at the nape of his neck, and Even felt a flush of shame that he’d caused those tangles, that he’d caused the grimace flashing across Isak’s face.

“Wait five minutes, then leave.”

Isak walked up to him again and pressed on Even’s shoulder to push him to the side. Even stumbled, but at least he’d moved. Isak opened the door just wide enough to escape, and then he was gone.

Even waited for the longest five minutes in the world.


	8. Even

And then he ran.

He ran through the open office area, back through the hallways, back up the stairs to the lobby. No one saw him because everyone was gathered to watch Isak give his speech upstairs, so Even could escape the museum completely unnoticed. Even burst through those heavy front doors and ran all the way to the street corner. He stopped there because he didn’t know where to go, so he paced in small circles while he tried to calm down.

That was dumb. So dumb. So perfect. So dumb. Even grabbed at his hair, wanting to pull it out in frustration, or at least feel that dull ache across his scalp to distract himself physically. Because all he could think about was that dumb perfect mouth and how it moved so well with his own. How kissing Isak felt like he’d been dancing with a stranger…for ten years. They knew nothing about each other but their bodies knew the song by heart, every lick, every beat.

Even puffed heavy breaths into the cold air. He ran his fingers through his hair to smooth back the evidence of his anxiety. He oriented himself toward the apartment and started walking.

Noora’s text came in just as he was unlocking their door. His fingers were still stiff from the cold so he rubbed his hands together while he tried to slide out of his shoes. Eskild spun into the hallway, robe flowing out to properly announce him. “Excuse me?”

_Where the fuck are you?_

Even froze, not sure who to respond to first.

“It is far too early for you to be walking in the door, and you are also far too alone to be walking in the door.”

“Sorry if I’m interrupting something.”

“I had to pause Netflix but I suppose it’s not the end of the world. Where is Noora?”

“I think she’s still there.” Even pulled out his phone and answered her text. _Sorry, had to leave. Are you okay on your own?_

“Okay then, where’s Isak?”

Even sighed. “Still there.” He kicked his shoes into the pile at the door and met Eskild at the entrance to the living room. Despite Eskild’s joke, he still wasn’t sure if he had a guest over and was actually interrupting something. Eskild looked him up and down, interpreting what he could of Even’s evening from his appearance.

He pursed his lips. “That isn’t sex hair.”

Even rolled his eyes and walked around Eskild, no longer caring if he was interrupting. “No, it’s we-kissed-and-I-ran-away hair.” He heard excited clapping follow him across the living room to his bedroom. Eskild stopped at his door, per their rule. His interrogation was just beginning though.

“So…I send you off in the most fuckable tuxedo in the city, condom in your pocket and everything, and you come home three hours later after _running away from a kiss?_ "

Even furrowed his brow and patted his pockets. “You—“

“Your inside breast pocket.”

Even dug out the condom and flicked it at Eskild’s feet. He began to undress. “I appreciate the effort but if I didn’t know it was there it wouldn’t have been useful.” He grabbed the hangers that had been tossed onto his bed and hung up the fuckable tuxedo as he removed it.

“I don’t know, maybe you would pat down your pockets in hopes of one magically appearing in the time of need. But perhaps I had overestimated your confidence.”

“A common mistake.” Even went to the door and closed it slightly, to access the hook behind it for his suit. Eskild leaned in to make sure he wasn’t going to be shut out.

“Well okay, walk me through it. You left looking fabulous and managed to get a kiss. Proud of you, by the way, but give me a play-by-play.”

Even was down to his shirt and boxer briefs. He started unbuttoning the pressed pleats, but Eskild respectively kept his eyes off of his body. Even started from the beginning. “Thank you for all of your help. Noora looked beautiful, and I felt quite glamorous walking in with her.”

“A toad would look glamorous with Noora on its arm.”

“He wasn’t where I thought he would be, so our entrance wasn’t grand. Of course, I thought he’d be waiting for me in our room despite…not knowing I was going to be there.” Even blushed at the admission of his fantasy, the movie-scene entrance he’d been dreaming about the past few days. The impossibility of the scenario had kept him calm about the whole deal, not letting him ruin it for himself. “We finally found him though. He’d dropped his glass and was trying to clean it up.”

“Mm, love a man on his knees.” Eskild leaned against the doorframe, getting comfortable. Even was down to just his underwear, and pulled a pair of sweatpants out of the bottom of his closet.

“I don’t know what was going on, but…it hit me then that he was working. So I felt like I was trying to Cinderella my way into the ball but he actually had a job to do. He wasn’t there to sweep me off my feet. So he did his job. He showed us some statues and was a perfect host and moved on to people who actually paid to be there.” Sweatpants pulled on and cinched at the waist, Even was ready for the bathroom. He walked back out to the hall, Eskild trailing him. In the bathroom he brushed his teeth, mumbling details through the foamy toothpaste. “We were drinking pretty steadily and looking at art. We decided we could buy one piece from the whole museum so we were sort of…looking to see who had the nicest boobs.”

“I appreciate your standards for apartment décor.”

Even gave Eskild a little bow in the mirror. He spit. “And that was fun, but the whole time I kept noticing Isak walking around. He’d be with other guests but like, constantly touching me.”

“You make it sound like he was doing some drive-by grabs.”

“Not like that, like….” Even rinsed his toothbrush and left the bathroom, brushing Eskild’s shoulder with his own as he went, to demonstrate. “Maybe it was my brain still clinging to the fantasy, but it felt like it was on purpose, that he was casually walking past me to say ‘Look at me instead.’”

Eskild gave him a shrug, picking up Even’s trail again as they went back to the living room. It was too subtle for him, personally, but he had decades of experience in effectively expressing interest in a dick. Drive-by grabs were useful, when called for. Even dropped to the couch, reading what was paused on the TV. “Is this…porn?”

“Please. If Netflix had porn I wouldn’t leave the couch. It’s a cute series about teens and sex from the UK. Want to watch? Actually wait, no, finish your story. How do you get from shoulder rubs to kissing?” Eskild took his seat again at the other end of the couch.

“Um…we kept looking at each other, through dinner. He was at a different table but I could see him. And then he got up at the end and came over. I was seated next to one of his coworkers, so he was talking to her but then he did this.” Even reached over for Eskild’s shoulder. He rested it lightly on his back, then pressed his fingers in a small, steady circle. He watched Eskild’s eyes go wide. “Exactly. So he left the room and I like, took a minute to realize what he’d done, and then got up and followed him.”

“I don’t know if I need a fan or a bowl of popcorn.”

Even pulled back his hand. “He led me down to his office. Shut the door. I’m…90% sure that was the point. He wanted me to follow him so we could be somewhere private. He kissed me and we made out for a while.”

Another burst of little claps.

“Then someone knocked because he was supposed to be giving a speech upstairs. So he had to go. But he told me to wait five minutes, and then leave. So I did.”

“Well hold the fuck on. The kiss. Was it good?”

Even smiled a bit at the memory. “Yeah. It was great. He’s a great kisser. And it felt…right.” In all of his anxiety while running away, he’d forgotten how good it had been before. It had felt right, like he was supposed to be there, held by Isak, tasting him.

“So why did you leave?”

“He told me to. And I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. He had to go do work, he didn’t want anyone to see me in his office. I shouldn’t have been down there in the first place.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did you tell Noora?”

“No, I didn’t…I didn’t go back to the table. I just left completely. Straight out the door.”

“Even….” Eskild leaned over to the coffee table for his phone. Even realized he didn’t check to see if Noora had answered him. While Eskild tapped something out he stood up to go find his own phone. It was on his bed.

_I’m fine. You’re missing the dancing. Great DJ_

There was also a blurry photo of some of Noora’s colleagues embarrassing themselves with dance moves in front of fine art. He carried it back to the couch.

“I have to say two things.”

Even sat down, ready to hear Eskild’s criticisms.

“I know it was probably scary after he left you in his office, but you shouldn’t have run out without talking to Noora first.”

“I know.”

“She’s probably going to tear you a new asshole tomorrow, and I’m kind of bummed I’ll be at work when it happens.”

“I’ll send you a recap.” Even dropped his head, fully aware of how shitty it was that he forgot about Noora, that he dragged her to the benefit and then abandoned her. Even though he had to go to work tomorrow, he decided he would stay up until she got home, to apologize in person. He settled into the couch with his regret. “What was the other thing?”

“Oh! Well we clearly need a strategy for the next time you’re going to see him.”

Eskild rolled his eyes and let the weight of it knock his head against the back of the couch. “I’m still running the whole evening through my head. I don’t think I have space to plan the future.”

“Nu-uh, I’m not taking that excuse again. We’re going to _stop_ thinking about what happened because we can’t change it. Time to move on.”

Even had been in this rut before. Not necessarily with another man, or in regards to a relationship either, but the kind of rut that stalls his life and cuts his engine. He’s been in this rut of indecision and anxiety over something he no longer has control of, and Eskild has been there to drag him out many times. The least he could do now was give little resistance. “Fine.”

“I’m assuming he hasn’t messaged you because the evening is still going strong.”

Even checked Instagram just to be sure. He hadn’t been paying attention to his phone in general, and recently had avoided Instagram completely in order to not get obsessive about Isak’s profile. He’d nearly gone into a tailspin when Isak had messaged him that first time. “Nothing.”

Eskild looked like he was thinking, his eyes drifting to their ceiling. “Okay…I think that’s a good thing. I mean, ideally I’d love a frantic message from him worried about where you’d gone, because then we would know he was looking for you. But he seems to be a pretty cool guy. Certainly not as tightly-wound as you.”

“He is very cool.” Even agreed, and let Eskild’s assessment stand.

“The question is, do we want something there waiting for him at the end of the night? Do we want to apologize? Or is that too…”

“Weak?”

“Apologies aren’t weak. But they do imply…something. While it was a shitty move on your part maybe we don’t have to _admit_ that you were being shitty.”

Even’s mouth fell open as he struggled to follow Eskild’s logic.

“I mean, he doesn’t know you abandoned him or ran away from him. Maybe you had something else you needed to rush off to, another man. Maybe you weren’t being shitty to him, but you were trying not to be shitty to someone else?”

“So your solution is to pretend I’m in another relationship?”

“No. Well, maybe. When you say it back to me like that it sounds horrible, but I’m just…I just want to…. Can I see his profile?”

“Promise you won’t send anything?”

Eskild’s hand went up in the Vulcan salute, which Even knew was entirely accidental but an earnest attempt at an oath. He handed over his phone. Eskild scootched closer to Even so he could watch him as he scrolled. “I just want to confirm that he’s gay. You don’t know, correct?”

“Technically no, I didn’t ask for his orientation. It’s safe to say he’s a big fan of my mouth but that’s all I’ve got.”

“Instagram really fucks with my gaydar these days but…maybe he’ll have an old couple photo.” Eskild flicked quickly through the profile. “It’s a solid mix but no one in an obviously romantic pose.”

“It’s quite professional.” He hadn’t been able to extract much detail out of it even having spent a considerable amount of time with each photo.

“Whatever. All that matters is that he’s into you. So you need to set a trap.”

Even furrowed his brow. It sounded a bit aggressive. He certainly wanted to be aggressive in a press-his-body-against-Isak way, but he didn’t want anyone else feeling that aggression. He didn’t want Isak to feel it, or for it to be displayed publicly. He wanted to keep it inside, where it was safe.

Eskild rolled his eyes. “I just mean something to draw him out. You followed him on Instagram first, you showed up at the benefit. We have to keep up the tease.”

After spending years watching Eskild bring men home, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he would know exactly what to do to attract yet another one. He had the expertise, so Even wasn’t sure why he was shocked by the plan of attack. Maybe it was because Eskild was being so generous with his advice. He was helping, unprompted. “Go ahead.” He leaned into Eskild, letting his head rest on his shoulder, and Eskild let out a little murmur of contentment. Whether it was from the coziness or the permission to work his magic, Even wasn’t sure. But he was tired and grateful for the help, so he just watched.

Eskild opened up his photos, taking a brief second to decide which one from their earlier shoot with Noora to post. “God, you really do look like a couple in love.” Eskild chose one where they were in the classic pose, but Even’s head was dipped down to Noora’s ear. Most of his face was obscured, but you could still tell he was smiling wide, maybe mid-laugh. Noora was staring off dreamily, composed as always.

“I do love her.”

“Me too.” Eskild worked fast, straightening the photo, zooming in a bit to hide the details of Noora’s bedroom. He brightened the colors so Noora’s lips popped, the blue of her dress deepened to the ink of a night sky. Even’s hair lost the stiffness of a fresh style and became soft in the new light. “Oh, what’s your caption style?” Rather than waiting for an answer he went back to Even’s profile and scrolled through. “You’re not big on captions, huh.” It wasn’t a question.

“Who reads captions these days?”

“Isak Valtersen, Senior Curator.”

Even chuckled. He hoped he would, whatever the caption was going to be. He watched Eskild return to the caption field and type out his next move.

_hot date_

Eskild swiftly tagged Noora, added the museum as the location, and posted the photo. He turned off Even’s screen and lightly tossed it into his lap. Mischief managed.

Eskild was about to press play on Netflix but Even’s screen lit up with a notification. They both stared at the phone. Isak had liked the photo.

“Shit, he has notifications on for you.”

Even sat up. “I guess your trap worked.” He didn’t pick up his phone yet, not wanting the notification to disappear.

“Of course it worked. He either thinks you are actually dating slash interested in Noora, despite all of the kissing, _or_ you might be making a subtle reference to said kissing. Photo unrelated. Either way, he’s trying to figure out the perfect way to slide into your DMs right now without looking too thirsty, though the post notifications aren’t helping him, poor boy.”

Even looked at him, marveling at the amount of subtext Eskild had extracted from what he thought was just a nice photo of their fancy outfits. “You’re like…a dick whisperer.”

Eskild pursed his lips and tipped his head, proud. “Open up your DMs. See if he’s typing.” He was feeling confident, and Even complied, wanting to witness more magic. But there was nothing, just his first message apologizing for the stool, still unanswered.

“Maybe he’s…still working.”

“Hmm. Maybe."

They went back to staring at Even’s phone, waiting for more. After about a minute, which felt like an hour, Eskild broke through the rising tension of the room. “Want to watch my show with me?”

“Sure.” Even slid his phone onto the coffee table, screen down. “You sure it isn’t porn?”

“It’s _British_ ,” Eskild emphasized, as if that explained everything. He pressed play, and Even sank back down into the couch.

They watched an episode, Eskild injecting details to help Even catch up to the plot and slapping at his shoulder whenever Eric was on screen. It was interesting and kept Even awake for a while, though he suspected he would’ve been fine without it, because he couldn’t stop thinking about what he should say to Isak. He spent another couple of hours typing lines in his mind—apologizing, flirting, acknowledging, denying, anything—and deleting them. He stayed slouched on the couch, not moving. His brain ran in circles around Isak.

* * *

Even loved the office on the weekend. He loved when it was empty, or when a random coworker was putting in extra time on a project, and it was just them. He loved the quiet that could let him focus and catch up, or the opportunity to chat with someone without the bustle of the workweek. But mostly he loved the lack of pressure. He was able to get things done because it was quiet, but also because people weren’t moving around him expecting him to get things done. When he didn’t have to perform work, he could just do it.

He still needed structure though. He got dressed in the same business casual, stuck to his schedule even though the weekends had different commute times. He left the apartment before Eskild and Noora woke up, and he tried his hardest to ignore everyone else’s weekend antics on social media. This Saturday was proving to be extra challenging though, because he had a message from Isak waiting for him as soon as he woke up.

_I’d like to pick up where we left off._

Even’s first instinct was to knock down Eskild’s door and ask him for subtext. What does it mean? How should I respond? Instead he just lied in bed, staring at his phone, reading a sentence that actually only meant one thing: Isak would like to continue making out. No subtext, plain as day. Nothing explicit, but he wasn’t dancing around with coded language or starting a different conversation in order to lead up to his desires. It was aggressive. And Even was stunned.

So he turned off his phone and swore not to look at it until he got to the office. There, alone at his desk, he stared at the line again. Then he swore to not look at his phone for another hour, enough time to glance at his inbox and dip back into yesterday’s designs.

In addition to feeling aggressive, it was also so…elegant. _I’d like to pick up where we left off._ Like they were going to open a book to continue reading a story, pressing play on Netflix. It made Even curious too, interested in picking up as well, interested in seeing what will happen next as if he weren't already part of the action. By the time his hour was up, he knew he wanted to answer right away. Last time he’d gotten overwhelmed, not sure what direction to take Isak’s stool conversation in, giving up after a distressing amount of time typing and deleting a response in the app. He was still overwhelmed, but at least now he knew what direction to go in.

He picked up his phone and went right into his messages.

_Yes. I’m at work now. Are you free tonight?_

Even let out a heavy exhale when he sent the message, then turned his phone over. He was impressed with his execution, the fact that he actually sent the message, but it came with a rush of adrenaline that made him kick away from his desk and escape into the hallway.

He walked to the comics library, a cozy room on his floor that held floor-to-ceiling shelves full of comic books. It was meant to be a reference section for their artists and writers, but Even used it now as a safe haven. There weren’t any wildly attractive men in this room, ready to reject his advances. Well, no human ones at least. He was surrounded by ones on paper, but those men had happy endings waiting for them if you turned enough pages. He went right to the shelf that held one of his favorite stand-alones, a short comic about a high school boy who develops a strange new ability. It was like a superhero story, but without the superhero part. He’d practically memorized it, but that was the point of rereading it now: it was a sure thing. Even knew the boy didn’t get rejected.

As soon as he took the comic off the shelf though, he thought about his message. Maybe Isak had responded already, since it was a direct question this time. Maybe he was being rude by not answering right away. There could be rejection waiting for him on his desk, but there also could be another “Yes.” So he reshelved the comic and jogged back to his desk. That was another benefit of working on the weekend: fewer people around to witness his anxiety in action. Even crashed into his chair and scrambled for his phone, flipping it over.

_I have a hot date._

Even felt the disappointment settle in, but he was surprised by how quickly he worked to recover. It _was_ quite presumptuous to think Isak would be available on a Saturday night, mere hours from now, just for a hook-up. Maybe he wasn’t being rejected. Saturday night was being rejected. So he tried again.

_How about Sunday?_

Instead of running away, Even kept himself in his chair. He was tense, still feeling that rush, but he was determined to get through a single conversation without letting himself stop it before it even got started. He watched the handsome man type.

_I meant you. You’re the hot date._

“Shit.”

_Come over when you’re done._

Isak sent his address and a couple of details on how to get to his apartment in quick, successive messages. Even just watched them pop up, as they scrolled his screen on their own. He was stunned, not really processing what was happening, not realizing what his Saturday night was about to become. But he knew he had to respond this time.

So he sent another "Yes."


	9. Isak

Isak hadn’t bothered asking _when_ Even was going to be done, when he might expect him, which meant he had an indefinite amount of time to clean his apartment. Once he was sure their conversation was over, that the texting bubbles weren’t going to pop up again, Isak dove into action. First stop was the shower, a quick yet thorough scrub-down and trim. He didn’t change his Saturday wardrobe, simply selecting a different t-shirt and sweatpants to change into. He hung up his tuxedo from last night, tucked away the drawer-worth of hair products he’d experimented with before the benefit, and fired up the vacuum cleaner. Ophelia hid under his bed for the entire hour it took him to cover the whole apartment.

Once he was done cleaning though, he was still struggling with timing. He was hungry, but he didn’t know what Even was doing for dinner. Would it be rude to ask him now, possibly too late to make any decent plans? Would it be rude to eat on his own and assume Even would take care of himself? In his rush to get Even to his apartment he’d really acted too fast, too slick, neglecting every other element of a date. If that’s what this was. After about ten minutes of indecision standing in his kitchen, he pulled out a frozen pizza to cook. While the oven was preheating he opened up the messages to refresh his memory.

He truly had only committed to an action (kissing) and a location (his apartment) at some point that evening. At best it looked like he’d been texting with his dick, zero brain involvement at all. A dick doesn't care for details. Sure it was effective, but it also sounded like he was going to answer the door naked save for a condom.

Shit. Did he have condoms? He shoved the pizza in the oven and ran back to his room. He used to be so good at this kind of thing, always stocked with supplies for the next guy, but he hadn’t bothered in a while. With all of the traveling he’d been doing he didn’t have time to go out on the weekends, so his bedside table drawer had gone unchecked. Ophelia crawled out when she heard him shuffling around in the drawer, hopeful that a treat was headed her way. “Wrong drawer, pup.” Luckily he had a couple leftover condoms, and his lube hadn’t dried up. Not that it would, but in a cartoon version of his bedroom, cobwebs were growing on this particular piece of furniture.

Ophelia followed him back to the kitchen, finally catching the scent of marina sauce. She confirmed that the evil vacuum had been defeated and then slid down to her side on the tile floor. “Been a while since you’ve had a visitor, huh?” He petted her with his foot. She did not acknowledge him nor the state of his sex life.

Ophelia was great with people. Most of the time, when they were at home, just the two of them, she was a quiet shadow. She would follow Isak from room to room and curl up wherever he landed, always within reach of a casual pet. She showed off more of her personality when she was out on walks, or when she was staying with the neighbors while Isak went on trips. He’d always get video updates of Ophelia bouncing around their apartment, and she looked like a completely different dog than the one currently pining for his pizza. She greeted everyone with the wag of a tail and the nudge of the nose, winning over skeptics and daring children to chase her. Except for Isak, whom she knew she had wrapped around her proverbial pinkie. At home she just kept tabs on him, keeping him out of trouble, protecting him from the vacuum with warning growls from under the bed.

The timer he’d set slid down onto his screen and he swiped it away. Ophelia perked up as soon as she noticed him moving toward the oven. But she bolted just as he was lifting the pie up from its cloud of heat. She must have sensed the knock before it actually happened. Isak left the pizza to cool on the counter.

“Ophie, back.” He commanded her to step away from the door, which she did. It occurred to Isak, just as he grabbed the doorknob to open it, that he hadn’t told Even he had a dog. He decided to skip the usual greeting and tried to prepare him at the last minute. Isak pulled open the door.

“Are you okay wi—“ Before he could finish his question Ophelia burst through Isak’s legs and introduced herself to Even’s crotch. Isak lunged for her collar while Even stumbled backward. “Ophelia!” Isak dragged her back to his side. “Are you—“

“You have a dog?” Even recovered and stepped forward.

“Yes. This is Ophelia.” She sat, finally discovering her manners. “I hope you’re not allergic or…uncomfortable.”

“May I pet her?”

“Please!” Isak stepped back and let go of Ophelia’s collar. She stayed and sniffed Even’s outstretched hand, then dipped her head to let him scratch her ears. If this interaction went smoothly, Isak was sure they’d all get along fine, and he was excited when he saw Ophelia’s tail thump against the floor. “Sorry for the rude introduction. I think she stole my line.”

Even looked up at Isak, not understanding at first. “Oh, the crotch. Hah.” They gave each other small chuckles before moving past the awkward joke.

“Um, did you have dinner? I just made a pizza, but I didn’t know if you ate already, or if you wanted to go out, or….” Isak tried to assess the situation, taking in Even’s slightly wet hair from a recent shower and casual sweatpants and socks underneath a puffy parka. “I mean, come in first.” He stepped back further, letting Even get inside to remove his shoes and coat. Even looked comfortable enough to stay in. Isak kept talking to fill the silence. “I didn’t realize until later that I didn’t give you much information, or like…ask if you wanted to do something.”

“That’s okay. Pizza is fine. I thought you just wanted to do the…sex.” Even looked like he regretted what he said before it even came out of his mouth.

“The sex? _The_ sex?” Isak felt bad for teasing this innocent man in his apartment but he couldn’t help it. Luckily Even reached out to shove at his shoulder, an embarrassed smile accepting the shame.

“Fuck off, you know what I mean.”

Isak laughed again but then let the joke fade away, because he did know what Even meant. He had invited him over to fuck him. Pizza was the furthest thing from Even’s mind. “Right.”

Ophelia had walked away, probably to observe the pizza. This left Isak and Even alone at his door, with nothing left to do except look at each other. Isak couldn’t remember what he was supposed to do, what he used to do with other men. How did they break the tension and get to the bedroom? How had he invited them in without being so direct? Should he just say it? _Actually yes, I want to do The Sex now._ It hung in the air between them, the joke that wasn’t a joke, and it seemed like neither of them wanted to take responsibility for it.

“Where….” Even whispered. “Where did we leave off?” In a move that contradicted the innocence of the question, Even backed himself up against the door, putting him into position. 

Isak smiled, relieved that Even took the lead. “There, I think.” He moved right in front of him, welcomed into the space. “And maybe my lips were….” Isak tilted his head to the side, angling for Even’s jaw, but Even’s own face turned to meet his directly. It didn’t matter where his lips had been because they were against Even’s now. And that first press was letting everything else fall into place.

Even’s hands were on Isak’s jaw instantly, pulling him in straight and tight. Isak didn’t need a grip on Even anymore, so he had the luxury of choosing just about anywhere to touch. His hands ran up along Even’s ribcage, gathering t-shirt as they went. They sucked on each other with kisses that needed no introduction.

After pressing him into the door for a considerable amount of time, after feeling as much as he could feel in that position, Isak started walking backward. He moved slow enough not to require any loss of contact, but that was a tease in and of itself. So instead of guiding Even all the way to the bedroom he settled for the nearest spot. He was getting overwhelmed, he had to sit down. The couch would do.

It was a small apartment, but it was all he needed. The couch could only fit two people, or one person and a dog, but it was comfortable and stylish and most of his guests preferred the bed anyway. He pulled Even into his living room and backed up until he felt his calves hit the couch. The leather made a weird noise when he dropped down onto it, then more weird noises when Even knelt over Isak, straddling his newly-formed lap.

They paused there, as if to confirm that this new position they’d smoothly shifted too was actually what they were supposed to be doing. Isak looked up at Even, at the chest expanding with shallow, rough breaths, at the mouth hanging open, waiting to resume. He rolled his question and answer into one unsure “Yes,” but that was enough, that was all it took for Even to descend.

Isak grunted when the weight settled into his lap and he could feel Even’s arousal resting on his own. He gave a small thrust of his hips, definitely a question, and got a grunt from Even in return. _Yes._ Isak’s hands moved down Even’s torso, swooping in from his sides to the front of his t-shirt, and pulling up on the hem. He warmed his fingers on Even’s belly, getting a picture of his skin from what he felt, reading him with his eyes closed.

Even’s arms were crossed tight behind Isak’s neck, not letting him move too much. This kept their mouths pressed against each other, so when Isak wanted to tell him “You’re so fucking hot,” it was just mumbled against wet skin. It was also difficult to speak when Even was biting on his bottom lip, almost chewing it. But Isak let it go, because he doubted Even was really in the mood to listen to him anyway. So his hands went back to work. He shoved Even’s t-shirt up under his armpits, exposing that belly. He granted himself access to Even’s pants next, slipping warm fingers past the drawstring cinched above his hips and settling on a grip at the top of Even’s ass. Nothing said The Sex like the absence of underwear, and Isak was so very pleased by this discovery. With his firm grip he pulled Even’s body closer, presenting his own arousal for Even to thrust back against. It was a much more effective form of communication than talking.

They were grinding against each other, almost humping, and it was getting intense enough for Even to need to loosen his arms and support himself on the back of the couch instead. Isak was at the mercy of the weight on him, the body above him, the motions that made his mind spin and sent shivers right down to his toes. He both couldn’t handle it and wanted more, so he brought his hands between them and made Even stop. “Wait. I need to—“ Even had stopped but Isak’s hands didn’t. They tugged on that waistband, setting Even’s dick free, and then pushed his own down, wriggling a bit until he could comfortably expose his own engorged cock. Even was close enough that Isak could scoop both of them into a single-handed grip, and the sudden, strong touch made Even gasp.

“Oh fuck.”

“You’re so hard.”

Even’s only response was to resume kissing, resume humping. Except the kissing was more just heavy open-mouthed breathing directly into Isak’s mouth. They stayed pressed close, Isak’s hand tugging on their foreskin, pressing their sensitive undersides together. He worked in sync with Even’s thrusts and they moved quickly toward release.

“Fuck this feels so good.” Even was putting his whole body into it. Isak grabbed his thigh with his free hand and could feel his quadricep bulging with the wild pace. Even dropped his head to Isak’s neck and latched on, burning his skin with each hot exhale. Isak closed his eyes and simply held on.

He heard Even’s breath hitch, a small whine vibrating against his pulse. “You gonna come?” Isak whisper-panted into his ear. It was less a question and more encouragement. “Come on my cock.” The word sounded harsh, aggressive. Even whined again.

Even straightened a bit, moving his hands to Isak’s chest. His hips never slowed—in fact they sped up at this new angle. Even braced himself with his palms spread across Isak’s pecs and then let go, curling his fingers into fists and taking chunks of Isak’s t-shirt with them. Isak felt Even’s dick swell in his hand a moment before the pulses surged up from his balls. “I’m co-uhhhhh…”

Rather than look down at the orgasm (Isak knew this was how you got cum in your eye) he looked up at Even’s face. He saw the tension and relief fighting across his features, Even’s brow furrowing and lips baring teeth. He wanted Even to bite him, to release the pressure on his skin, faster than it was happening through his dick, but he remained silent. He just watched Even, picking up a slow stroke when his hips shuddered to a halt. He felt Even’s cum, warm and wet, soaking into his shirt and slipping down his hand. Even seemed to remain seized up even after he was done shooting. Still, Isak just watched.

“Get…get a condom.” The order came out with the roughness of someone whose brain was still preoccupied with pleasure. But then Even fell to the side, slipping out of Isak’s grip and freeing his legs. They both moaned at the sudden shift. “Now.” Isak jumped to his feet. His erection bobbed freely in the air. He wiped his hand on his shirt as he ran to his bedroom, making a beeline for the drawer. Maybe it was time to consider a living room stash.

When he returned Even was standing, albeit looking a little shaky on his legs. He was tugging his feet out of the puddle of sweatpants at his ankles, revealing socks that were actually a scene from Super Mario World instead of just the light blue he’d noticed before. Isak’s eyes traveled back up, past the thick dick hanging heavy with blood and the sweat starting to darken his t-shirt in the center of his chest. He waited until Even freed his feet and returned his gaze, then offered him the condom.

“Your condom, your dick.”

Isak almost slapped himself for how much that rule made sense. Surely Even wasn’t going to show up expecting sex, The Sex, without a condom if he wanted to wear one. The command to get his own also conveyed his intention for their proceedings. Even pointed to the couch, for Isak to return to his seat. He at least had enough understanding to strip his own pants and shirt before sitting down again.

Even coughed. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

“No, this is…this is fucking perfect.” Isak’s preference varied with each partner. He was excited to find out what his would be with Even. His dick flicked about in his lap while he extracted the condom. Only once the condom was rolled down into place did he look up to watch Even again. He had one hand cupping his junk and the other fingering his asshole. “Oh shit, I forgot l—“

“It’s fine, just spit.” Even nodded at his sheathed dick, stepping in close, ready to straddle Isak’s lap. Isak did as he was told, dropping as much saliva as he could gather onto the rubber. Even stepped onto the couch and hovered. His hand still covered his dick, politely keeping it out of Isak’s face. Isak’s hands began a quick exploration of Even’s ass, running over his cheeks, dipping into his crack, and pressing lightly at his hole. “I haven’t done this in a while,” Even confessed.

Isak pressed harder, the tip of his index finger feeling the tightness that Even implied. “I can get lube, really quick.” The speed, the necessity of what they were about to do didn't give him time to linger or admire. They were all business.

“No, just go.” Even replaced Isak’s hand with his own, reaching back to add more spit to his hole and line himself up. “It’s going to be over in thirty seconds anyway.”

Isak wasn’t even offended. He laughed. If he had been close during the handjob it had faded out of reach once Even sent him on his errand. Shoving into something as tight as Even’s butt was going to get him right back to the edge though. “Fuck.”

Even was relaxed. He might not have done it in a while but he knew exactly how to do it. He dropped to a crouch, spread his cheeks and opened up, pushing out. All of his weight was balanced in a squat so he could let gravity do the work. It was tight, an incredible amount of pressure suddenly surrounding Isak’s cock, but it happened fast. And it was smooth. As Even slid down he pushed his feet back and shifted his straddle to his knees. He was back in the same position as before, except now Isak was inside of him, and Isak was the one barely able to catch his breath from the sensation.

It sounded like Isak wanted to say something, but all that came out was “Huh. Huh. Ev. Ahh.” Even didn’t move once he bottomed out. He sat in Isak’s lap. His own dick and balls were resting on Isak’s happy trail. They were still, opposite the fevered thrusting from just a few minutes ago. It was just as intense though, if not more, because Even was squeezing him. It was some of the most subtle sex that Isak had ever had, and terribly effective to boot. He might even beat Even’s predicted timing.

Even’s ass milking his dick was draining Isak of any control at all. He sank back into the couch because there was nothing else to do, and Even’s hands landed on his chest again, pressing him deeper into the leather. Isak managed to gasp out Even’s name but he didn’t know why. He didn’t know what direction he could add to the situation. Even was choreographing a revival of his orgasm with hidden muscle alone. Isak contributed by letting go.

“Fuck you’re going to make me come,” he rushed out in a breath. He’d been staring at nothing, but looked at Even then, to make sure he heard. 

Even added a slight bounce. Isak’s head fell back. Even’s hands slid up to his neck, and it was another subtle move that looked innocent and still from afar. But Even kept squeezing. He made it hard for Isak to breathe with every part of his body.

Isak came unannounced, save for the reflexive hip thrusts. He bucked up into Even, and felt the same thing he’d seen play across Even’s face earlier. He was concerned and afraid because he couldn’t control himself in this moment. It was simultaneously the best and worst kind of fear, worst because it was all-consuming and best because it was only met with kindness. Even’s hands relaxed from a slight chokehold into a caress, and Isak was able to recover his breath between soft kisses across his face.

“You feel so good inside me.”

“Even.”

Even shut him up with another slow squeeze. He remained impaled on Isak for another minute, toying with the aftershocks. When Isak begged with his name again, he pulled off, releasing him from the sweet torture. Once it was free Isak’s cock slapped down onto his groin. All Isak could do was stare at it, evidence of his complete satisfaction.

He was aware that Even was moving off of him, around him, but Isak was still draped in the light haze of his orgasm. He must have managed vague directions to his bathroom, because shortly after Even was hovering over him cleaning him up with a hand towel. The condom was thrown away, any errant cum wiped up, the pressure of the room returning to normal. Isak realized he could feel another emotion when a hint of disappointment appeared at the sight of Even pulling his sweatpants back on. “Wait. Do you have work tomorrow?”

“I do.” Even’s chin was tucked into his chest while he inspected his own t-shirt and its various damp spots.

“Could…could we do this again?” Isak struggled to sit up, and then bent over to grab his own pants. He didn’t have the energy or focus to put them on, but he used the bundle of fabric to cover his crotch. “Do you work nearby? Was it difficult to get here?” He wanted to ask Even to stay, eat some pizza, show him the rest of his apartment, or at least his bed. But Even was already moving back to the door, ready to escape. If he was so intent on leaving then Isak could at least try to get him to return.

“You’re walking distance from my office, but I had to go home first.” Even disappeared into the hallway, and Isak struggled to get to his feet to chase him.

“Wai—“

But then Even was back. He offered Isak his phone, and Isak had to drop his sweatpants in order to accept it. “Put your number in.” Even pulled on his coat while Isak typed in a new contact. “I’ll text you tomorrow when I’m done.” Isak handed back the phone, which Even quickly shoved into his pocket. He grabbed his pants again, pulling them on as he hopped after Even toward the door.

“S-same time?” Isak didn’t know what time it was now, nor what time it had been when Even had showed up. But he needed more confirmation that Even would be back. He didn’t want to appear desperate, but he also knew he couldn’t let Even run away like he had the night before.

His shoes were on. He was ready to run. But then he was back in front of Isak, closer this time. He reached out and stroked Isak’s cheek, letting his fingers draw down his jaw, dusting his chin. “If I can wait that long.” Their eyes met. There was a weight between them that turned the teasing line into a promise and kept them anchored at the door. Even’s rush to leave slowed down to this stillness.

Isak could try again. He could ask him to stay. There was pizza. He opened his mouth to take the breath that was needed for words.

But then Even ran.


	10. Even

It was almost comical how close Isak’s apartment was to his office. Even passed it on the way from his bus stop to the building, and he would have laughed when he realized which door was Isak’s if he hadn’t been so shocked. He’d been right there this whole time. In fact, Isak had probably stood across the street at his same bus stop, waiting to get to the museum. Well, maybe not. That particular route would’ve required a lot of transfers. What was actually strange was the amount of time Even spent on Sunday morning using Google Maps to plot out Isak’s work commute. Once again, he was glad the office was empty and not witnessing him trying to solve this very important puzzle.

Even tried to justify it though. He didn’t know when Isak woke up on the weekend, and didn’t want to text him too early with his plans for that evening. So he killed an hour or two at his desk, trying to figure out how many times they’d crossed paths near his office in all of the years he’d been working there. There were infinite possibilities though, and in the end none of them mattered. They’d met at the museum. He was going to his apartment, again, tonight. Not just passing by it like another possibility.

He finally caved around 11, turning over his phone and letting himself open up Isak’s profile. There wasn’t anything new. He’d posted a photo of Cupid yesterday afternoon, a tribute to a successful benefit, but Even had seen that already. He was about to switch over to their messages to propose that evening’s meet-up when he remembered he’d asked for Isak’s phone number during his hasty departure. At least he’d done one thing right.

When he opened his contacts, he laughed. Instead of his name, Isak had labeled his phone number as “The Sex.” Even took a screenshot of it and sent it to Isak, along with a time. _8? No dinner._

He didn’t want to subject Isak to the awkwardness of another frozen pizza, so he took the whole idea off of the table to start. The Sex. Just The Sex. And maybe petting Ophelia? She was cute. Now that he was thinking about the dog more, he realized why she’d been such a surprise: she wasn’t in any of his photos. Wasn’t that the purpose of Instagram, to post pictures of your dog? Maybe Eskild was right, there were still a finsta and a dark account to be discovered.

But he didn’t have time for that. Isak had replied with a _Perfect_ , which meant Even had a firm deadline for the work he had to get done today. Coupled with the hours wasted on maps, he had to seriously focus. He set his alarm for a reminder to get a late lunch, then dove into his storyboards.

* * *

Ophelia greeted him with the same amount of enthusiasm as the day before, straight to the crotch. “Oof. Hi Ophelia.”

“Ophelia, leave it.”

The dog backed off at the command. Even stepped into Isak’s apartment. “Hey.” He almost laughed at how quickly Isak’s face shifted from the stern reprimand for the dog to the excitement at Even’s greeting.

“Hi! How was work?”

Even shrugged, both in response and to take off his coat. He hadn’t gone home this time, so he was still wearing his button-up and sweater, and decent jeans, no holes. The outfit must’ve prompted the question, as it didn’t match Isak’s like last time, and today. “Got my shit done. Was kind of distracting knowing that _this_ was waiting for me.” He waved a hand up and down Isak’s body, and caught the blush that bloomed on Isak’s face as the result of it.

“You’re…pretty distracting yourself.”

“I’d add that to my résumé if it weren’t already on there for other reasons.”

They faced each other in Isak’s entryway again. Even was slightly more relaxed this time, because he had been here before. He knew that Isak wanted him here, and why. He didn’t feel the urge to jump into it right away, just to fill the silence.

But there wasn’t much silence. Isak reached for his hand and pulled him into the apartment. “So you’ve seen my couch.”

“Great couch.”

Isak laughed. God he loved making him laugh. It was kind of…squeaky. Unexpected from a man who worked in a museum, who talked about nude forms without the hint of a snicker on his face. Even got a better look at the living room while they were paused but they quickly moved to the kitchen. “Kitchen. Fridge. Drinks.” Isak had a well-stocked fridge. “Glasses in this cabinet if you want water.” He pointed out all of the relevant amenities with one hand, and continued to hold Even’s with the other. Even saw the glasses but looked down at their hands. That was the only hospitality he cared about.

He followed Isak to the bathroom (“I think you already know where everything is.”) and dutifully admired a hallway closet (“I don’t know…if you ever need a vacuum.”). Then they walked right into his bedroom. And that was when Even decided he was never going to invite Isak over to his apartment.

“It’s so…grown up.” Even took in the soft grey of the walls, the tasteful area rugs around the bed, the framed photos and potted plants. He had a desk that was empty except for a closed laptop centered on it and a rack of clothes organized by weight. Even could tell that the room was kept this way, and not just hastily tidied up for the sake of a guest. Ophelia was curled up on her bed in the corner, not moving but observing the two men.

“Thanks?”

“I mean it’s nice. Your whole place is nice. Clean.”

He felt Isak squeeze his hand, which made Even turn to face him. Isak was smirking. “Want to make a mess?”

* * *

As expected, the smoothness of the evening ended there, as they stripped each other down to their socks and shut the door in case Ophelia felt like watching (she didn’t). Standing naked at the end of Isak’s bed, Even didn’t know what to do next. Already being naked it felt strange to go in for something so innocent as a kiss, but it also felt presumptuous to jump into Isak’s bed or simply reach out and grab his hardening dick. So he just looked at it and touched himself instead.

“How are you feeling?”

Even balked. His hand was on his dick…he was feeling fucking fine. “G-good.”

“I mean, your ass. I feel like last night might have…hurt.”

Now that Isak mentioned it, Even acknowledged the dull throbbing around his asshole again. He’d taken paracetamol when he’d gotten home last night, and again in the morning, but had managed to distract himself from the pain with the anticipation of the evening to come. The excitement of sex with Isak, the pleasure, hadn’t stopped him in the moment before, so he didn’t think it would stop him again. Isak slowed him down though. “It did, kind of.” He was standing there naked; there was no point in trying to lie.

“I’m sorry. I know you said it had been a while. We can switch, if you don’t mind. Or not do uh, butts at all.” Isak reached out then, running his fingers from Even’s balls up his shaft, grazing over Even’s own fist at the tip. Even’s asshole clenched at the touch and he bit his lip. He wanted to laugh, if only to hide the flutter of pain, but mostly because Isak sounded funny.

“ _The_ sex? _Doing_ butts? We sound like we’re eight years old and trying to google porn.”

“Excuse you, I didn’t google doing butts until I was fifteen.” Isak retracted his hand to set his arms akimbo, defending his browser history with a strong stance. It was cute. Even leaned in to give him an admiring kiss, which Isak accepted. “But back to your butt.”

“I usually top, but enjoy both, and I didn’t want to force you if you weren’t ready to take it.”

“As impressive as it is, I am very ready. I use lube though. Condom?” Isak was getting right down to business, walking over to his closet.

Even nodded. He let himself watch Isak’s ass as he moved, since this was his first time seeing it properly, but then bent over to retrieve his recently shucked pants. He dug into the pocket for the two condoms he brought from home. When he looked up he saw Isak returning with a small pump bottle and towel. “It’s—“ He started to blurt it out, then stopped, and then realized it was too late, because now Isak was waiting for the rest. Just looking at Isak made him want to be honest, clothed or not. “It’s been a while since I’ve done…anything. Top, bottom, whatever.”

“Are you nervous? Because you shouldn’t be. You did… _really_ well last night, and I think you’d be able to do it again.” Isak was casual in his reassurance, talking while he continued to work, pulling back the comforter on his bed and flicking out the towel over the sheet.

“I just don’t want to disappoint you, if you were expecting more, or better.”

Isak shrugged, not looking at him, letting him be alone in his nakedness. “I was expecting we’d be on the couch again. But now were in my room and I have lube, so it’s already better.” He climbed into bed and bumped himself up to the headboard. He took a pillow and shoved it behind his back. Once he was situated, comfortable, then he looked at Even. “I’ll be kind of bummed out if you don’t join me, but I can also work with just watching you.”

“Holy fuck,” Even let out in a breath. Isak had his knees bent in front of him, but then he slid his feet out and let his legs fall open. The shudder that ran through Even wasn’t because Isak was revealing his erection—it had been swinging freely, casually just moments ago—but because Isak pressed his hands into his lower abs and slid them down until they enveloped his dick, all while staring at Even’s nakedness. Now he wasn’t alone, he was on display. His nakedness had a purpose and it was being used accordingly.

The blood was draining from his brain to his dick, making him lightheaded at the sight of Isak masturbating to him. Though it didn’t really matter if Isak was looking at him. Simply the fact that Isak was helping himself to obvious pleasure was turning Even on, making his dick twitch and tap at his own stomach. The sensation managed to do what his brain no longer could: spur him into action. He lifted one knee, then the other, until he was balanced at the end of the bed. Isak smiled at the small advancement.

“How many do you have?” Isak gave a little nod at Even’s fist at his side, which was holding the condoms.

“Two.” Even tossed them at Isak’s knees, an offering. But Isak wasn’t satisfied with it.

“Only two?”

“One more than yesterday.”

“Two fewer than what I was hoping for.”

Isak sounded serious, and in conjunction with the established eye contact, the unwavering stare even as he continued to stroke himself, Even wasn’t sure if a teasing tone would be well-received. He went with it anyway. “Greedy bitch.”

Isak squeaked, giggled. Even dropped to his hands to crawl forward. Isak set out his terms: “If you suck me off I’ll settle for two.”

“And what if I don’t?” Even reached Isak’s feet. On his knees at Isak’s feet wasn’t the best position to bargain in, but he lowered his head and kissed Isak’s ankle to see where that would get him. Isak’s foot jerked at the soft touch.

“I think you will.” _Correct_. “But if you don’t, I’m going to squeeze you into one of my condoms and go for a ride anyway.”

“Hmm.” Even pretended to consider the non-existent deal as he moved up Isak’s right leg. He dotted kisses into the light hair and turned those into hot licks once he hit his thigh. He noticed when Isak stopped stroking, when his tongue became too distracting.

It was such a relief, knowing how much control he had, but also seeing how comfortable Isak was in taking control, or at least pretending to take it. He was going to determine the course of the evening…just as soon as he was released from Even’s tongue. Which may or may not happen. As Even came to understand their relationship dynamics in this particular moment, what he was allowed to do and what Isak wanted him to do, he approached it all with newfound confidence. That confidence ran Even’s hands up Isak’s hips until they were at his waist, holding him in place. That confidence let him drop his eyes from Isak’s, not needing to watch his face and wait for his reaction. That confidence let him flick out his tongue at Isak’s engorged cock, and before Isak had a chance to respond, it also let him scoop the whole member into his mouth and swallow it down. Holy fuck.

* * *

All Even could hear was his heartbeat. Or maybe that was Isak’s. One of their hearts was pounding, maybe both, and it was so loud he couldn’t even hear the rush, the force of his own breath, as he panted into Isak’s shoulder. He had fallen forward as he filled his second condom, with only an equally sweaty Isak to catch him, so they lied there for a few minutes to let their bodies finish and recover. Even didn’t want to trap Isak under him but he couldn’t avoid it. His heart was in overdrive and little thought was left for how to move the rest of his body, if he could. Luckily, Isak didn’t seem to mind. He was whispering things into Even’s hair that Even couldn’t understand over the beats and the rush, but they sounded sweet and slow, not demanding. Quite the opposite from how he’d sounded when they were fucking. Which was another thing he hadn’t expected from a man who works in a museum. He laughed then, imagining shushing Isak the way he probably shushed his patrons. The subtle shake of his body made them shift enough for Even’s dick to slip out of Isak’s ass, and they both moaned at the sensation. He knew he had to catch the condom, make sure at least that everything was spilling onto the towel, but he still didn’t trust his own arms to hold any weight.

“What’s so funny?” Isak reached between them just like he had before and carefully, blindly pulled off the condom.

“Thank you. I was laughing at how loud you are, for a guy who works in a pretty quiet place.”

Isak slapped Even’s side with his other hand. “If you didn’t run away on Friday you would’ve seen how loud the museum can be.”

“Please tell me you weren’t screaming ‘Fuck me, Even!’ in front of Noora.”

Isak laughed and shoved Even off of him, just enough to shuffle out from under his weight. He tugged at the towel as he went, wiping at his ass and checking the sheet. He left the room.

Even rolled the rest of the way onto his back. He was suddenly aware of his nudity now that he was the only one in the room. He wanted to cover himself up, ideally tug on the comforter and fall asleep within seconds, but his dick was still wet and again, he didn’t want to be presumptuous. He was here for The Sex and now The Sex was done. He’d solved the same problem last night by immediately cleaning up and leaving, so he began the whole process all over again. He heard Isak running water in the bathroom while he carefully climbed out of bed and picked up his clothes.

A few minutes later Isak returned. “Do you—Whoa.” Even turned around as he zipped up his fly. “Are you leaving?” Isak was still naked but the flush and sheen of his skin had disappeared.

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but you can stay. You should stay. You can even shower if you want.”

Even froze, his fingers still tugging on his zipper. There was the invitation, the thing he hadn’t wanted to presume, but he still didn’t know how he was supposed to answer. He hadn’t done this in a while either.

Isak walked around him, picking up his own clothes. He tossed his pants into a hamper that Even hadn’t realized was a hamper, and pulled his shirt on over his head. While it was obscuring his face, while Even, for a brief second, was alone in the room again, he looked at the bed and tried to picture himself in it. He’d actually been in it, moments ago, so he knew that was possible, but he still needed to picture himself _staying_ in it, like Isak had requested. “I’m not great at…staying.”

Isak huffed a laugh as he pulled down his shirt at the hem. “I could tell.”

“Sorry.”

“But you said the same thing about sex and then you exceeded all expectations. So I highly recommend you try it again.”

Even realized they were back to where they started, at the end of Isak’s bed, Isak trying to reassure him that it would be fine. He was ashamed that it was playing out again, that his confidence had been so short-lived. While he craved intimacy, he still needed a pep talk to actually work up to it.

“Stay with me though. Just for the night.” Isak stepped in and kissed him. He was open, using tongue, as if to prove they didn’t need to start this whole thing over. They were picking up where they left off. Then he whispered into Even’s mouth: “I’ll kick you out in the morning when I have to walk Ophie.”

As if Ophelia had been waiting for someone to say her name, she trotted into the room and went right to her bed, not even glancing at the men on the way. Even was distracted by the sound, but that just meant Isak had an opportunity to pull at Even’s sweater and shirt, getting them open and off of his shoulders with little resistance. “I’m hoping you sleep naked but I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“Sure.”

Isak’s face lit up with delight now that he had permission to undress Even fully. Even was used to wearing pajamas, but he was also used to sleeping alone. Might as well follow Isak’s lead the rest of the way.

Even stood still while Isak’s hands moved slowly, getting his shirt all the way off, unzipping his pants, playing with his boxers as if he hadn’t already seen, been fucked by, what was underneath. “Keep your socks on. They’re cute.” Even looked down at the socks that had never left his feet. They were watermelons, bright red with seeds and a green rind at the top. “And you’re on the left, I’m on the right. Ophie may or may not end up in the middle.”

With firm instructions Even had a bit more motivation, no longer frozen in place. He picked up his pants again to fish his phone out of his back pocket. He mirrored Isak’s steps to the opposite side of the bed, accepting a pillow tossed his way and pulling up the comforter. At the last minute he realized he should pee, and properly wipe off his dick. “Oh, um. Bathroom.” Isak waved him off.

Even moved quickly. He relieved himself and washed up without looking in the mirror, without pausing. If he did he knew he’d lose his nerve, make a break for the front door even without his clothes. He could do this; it was just sleeping with a guy. He’d done it before, and he trusted Isak’s impression that it would go well. After all, it was fucking _sleep_. Being unconscious was usually his favorite thing to do, so he wasn’t sure why he was being so resistant to it.

When he returned to the room Ophelia watched him move back to the bed with a vaguely curious but steady stare. He climbed in, sliding onto his side, still mirroring Isak who was propped up on his elbow.

“I’m waking up at six, to a goddamn nightmare, apparently.” He was scrolling on his phone.

“Work?”

Isak needed little prompting to let out a burst of frustration. “We’re days away from Christmas and Geir is on my back about the construction that’s starting in the new year. I think he’s just trying to create work where there is none, just so he can feel like he’s earned his vacation.” He rolled his eyes, but then clicked the screen dark. “Whatever.” Isak twisted away to plug in his phone and tap a light switch. The two lamps that had kept the room glowing now faded into darkness. Even had to blink to adjust his eyes, and in that time Isak returned to face him, moving in close. “I will not complain if you sleep on me.”

“On you?” Even managed to mumble before his mouth was busy with Isak’s tongue. To demonstrate what he meant, rather than explain, Isak wrapped an arm around Even’s waist and pulled him into him, then onto him, as he rolled onto his back.

When they broke for a breath he confirmed: “On me.”

Even was comfortably, casually, straddling Isak’s right leg, and the span of his chest was fully centered on Isak’s. There were those heartbeats again, singular and loud. Even made some minor adjustments to ensure longevity in this position: he tucked his dick, dragged his pillow over for additional support, and found a space to breathe in the crook of Isak’s neck that wouldn’t leave him with a lake of drool when they woke up.

“God this feels so good.”

Even had to will away the tension in his entire body, let Isak feel all of the weight that he wanted. But then he could agree. “Yes.”


	11. Isak

It was a dumb idea, now that he was sitting at his desk, to bring Even down to his office. He was staring at his door, the same door he’d pressed Even up against, and that was all he could think about when he looked in that general direction. Which was often. Whether Kim was sticking her head in to answer a question or Geir was holding a quick meeting without committing to a chair, or whenever he was simply tired of looking at his computer, his eyes were at the door and his mind was stuck on Even.

It probably would have been anyway, but the door wasn’t making things any easier. So he decided to get out. Isak sent the latest floor plan for the construction to the shared printer and then stopped by Kim’s cube. “I’m going to go check on inventory for the next move. Care to join?” This was both a good opportunity for Kim to shadow him on a standard process and for Isak to let Kim deal with the complicated system on the computers. He’d stumbled through it last week but wasn’t particularly interested in doing it again. Kim, as expected, jumped at the offer. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

“No, I was just brainstorming summer programming for Camilla. She wanted a list of five potential ideas before the holidays.”

“Good to know I’m not the only one handing off my work.” Isak swiped the pages from the printer as they walked past it on the way to the lockers.

“She said you guys were struggling and could use a fresh pair of eyes.”

Isak said nothing, because Camilla was right. But he made note of this request, made without his knowledge, because he wouldn’t put it past Camilla to outsource her work and then take complete credit for it. If men could do it constantly, then why couldn't she? “If you come up with anything, or if you know of anyone else offering up ideas, let me know. I want to make sure you get credit for your contributions, or at least a doctor’s note.”

Kim snorted. “A doctor’s note?”

“Like, if this brainstorming is preventing you from accomplishing other things, but you’ve prioritized it because the request came from Camilla, I can support you by understanding that you missed other goals only because a different one was put in place for you.”

“Oh. I thought you meant like, a fancy stamp of approval just because you’re a doctor.”

“Nah, but I should also get one of those.”

This made Kim laugh as they turned down the last corner at the lockers. “Not like I’m going to miss any goals, but I appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

Isak had been fucked over too many times during his early years as an assistant and the frustration from those experiences hadn’t faded enough for him to forget. Kim would struggle even more simply because she was a woman, and Isak knew this partly because of how his and Camilla’s paths differed on their way to curatorship. They were equals now, but the more difficulties that Camilla had encountered, the fact that it had taken her longer than him, explained how her specific kind of edge had developed. Camilla had learned how to work smarter than them simply because she had had to, and Isak wasn’t going to cut her down for that, but he would try to help where he could: by not letting that edge cut other people down in the process. Perhaps it was his own kind of atonement for his privilege.

Kim walked straight to the inventory office and took control of the computer. Isak pulled a spare chair up to the desk next to her and laid out the pages of the floor plan. They were going to check the logs for each piece that was plotted out, and then walk through the schedule for moving them up to the gallery. Except they’d only just started with one log when Kim spun toward Isak and asked, “So how was the benefit?”

Isak was surprised by the question both for its sudden and unrelated presence as well as its obvious answer. “It was great, you were there.”

“Let me be more specific then. How was it when you left for twenty minutes and Even ran after you and then you spent the rest of the night looking for him?”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I know I’m not being very professional, but you were definitely hooking up in your office _and_ Noora has messaged me multiple times trying to get more details.”

“You’re friends with Noora, then?”

“Of course. You stole her date so she needed a new one. She’s very cool.”

Isak had two options. He could chastise Kim for being unprofessional and steer their conversation back to the work they actually needed to do, or he could share details about Even in exchange for even more details about Even from Kim. Considering that he’d pulled them to the storage lockers in order for him to stop thinking about Even, the choice was clear. “Is she, um, his girlfriend?”

Kim let out a loud laugh. “No, they’re just roommates. Very pretty roommates, but just roommates. She told me that he’d practically dragged her there, because he’s the one who actually uses her membership. But you must’ve known that already, what with your…research.”

Isak could feel her wink even though he refused to look Kim in the eye. “Has she said anything else about him?”

“Not really, but she was wondering what was going on because she barely saw him all weekend, and on Saturday he said he was going out to get food around dinner time but came back without any and had to order delivery. Ever since he disappeared on Friday she’s been worried because she said he does strange things sometimes.”

“Oh.” He really should have steered the conversation back to the inventory, because the blush that was burning up his cheeks was getting out of control. “Well…he’s fine. If you need to report back or whatever. I saw him on Saturday.”

Kim waited.

“And Sunday.”

She continued to wait.

“And this morning.”

She howled. “I knew it!”

Of course she did. Kim was intuitive and intelligent, and Isak had lost any hope for subtlety when he couldn’t even hold onto his glass in Even’s presence. He knew he shouldn’t be indulging like this, sharing his personal life with his employee and demanding details from her own. But he couldn’t resist taking advantage of her intuition and intelligence in order to get a better understanding of Even. He dropped his face into his hands as he rode out Kim’s giggles and his own embarrassment.

“I mean, I was only about 60% sure something had happened. Like, obviously he was in your office with you, but thank you for confirming that you’ve been hooking up the whole weekend.” Isak tried to hush her even though no one else was in the lockers to hear. She did soften her voice though, as if to promise she would keep it a secret. “I’ll just let Noora know that you didn’t notice anything strange. But considering how close they seem in the first place I’m sure she’s heard most of the details by now too.”

He wondered, then, if Even was pumping Noora for details on her friend’s boss just like he was fishing for details on Even. It would be nice, if the desire for information was mutual, if they held the same level of interest in each other. But he wasn’t so sure. Even was so mysterious to him, this mix of fear and indifference and study and passion that Isak struggled to investigate because he was too often distracted by the physical form that held it all. He wanted to sit down and talk to Even, learn more about him, but kissing him, having sex with him, always seemed like more of a priority in the moment. And when it wasn’t, like that morning when he’d woken up with Even clinging to his side, he didn’t dare disturb him to do something as silly as _talk_. No, not when he had a beautiful man holding him, a beautiful man staying.

He’d extricated himself from Even’s grasp before Ophelia hopped up and did it for him. If he didn’t take her out for a walk immediately she would throw a very loud tantrum, so he rushed through her usual morning routine. While he was doing her loop through the park he texted Even in case he woke up while he was gone. _Walking Ophie. Stay as long as you want, help yourself to anything. If you need to leave the door locks automatically._

He’d been absolutely delighted when he returned and found Even still asleep. He was tempted to skip out on work, call in sick, but the Monday after a big event looked suspicious on its own, and he needed to put a stop to Geir’s emails in person. So he fed Ophelia and showered quickly, and stared at Even’s sleeping form while he got dressed, like an absolute creep. He left for work at the absolutely last possible minute. He didn’t wake Even up, knowing it was his weekend and he probably needed the rest, especially after such an energetic evening. He sent him another text, going for hopeful but not pushy. _Off to work. Text me later about tonight._ It had been vague enough to qualify as an invitation but also could be dismissed without too much rejection. His phone was still on his desk and he had no idea if a reply was waiting for him.

“Okay, everything is accounted for except the three pieces you have still outstanding.” Kim had continued on during Isak’s reflection, moving quickly through the plans and marking each piece. Naturally, the work was done faster without his interference.

“Oh, right. Did I write down when they would arrive?”

“The third.”

He checked the floor plan. The three pieces were only spread out across two rooms, which means those would be lowest priority for getting walls built, painted, and installed. He wanted to jump over to check on the status of the construction team, to see if they were on track, but remembered he wasn’t done here yet. “I should have mentioned this before you started, but we need to go through again and see which pieces have gone through exhibit prep. Most get examined and cleaned when they arrive for storage, but since we’re working with some of our own collection, stuff that’s been down here for a while, I’d prefer it if everything has been prepped at least within the last month."

“Got it.”

Isak watched over Kim’s shoulder as she move swiftly through all of the assigned pieces. He asked her to walk him through her process of creating a separate collection in the system, since he had assumed they would have to search the whole catalog from scratch, but she was clearly doing much more efficient work. If he were being honest with himself, he was the one actually shadowing Kim. He might be pointing her in a direction but he was still following her footsteps.

* * *

By lunchtime there was still no reply from Even. Isak was almost tempted to go back to his apartment to see if he was still in bed. But he had to return a phone call to Hubert and decided to get that over with instead. Hubert was still coming up with reasons to reject his proposal, and he hoped a personal phone call would finally settle things before the holidays added their own delays. He went back to his office, tossed the marked-up plans on his desk, and shut the door.

As much as he cringed at his slow speech and limited vocabulary, Hubert’s demand for negotiating over the phone was actually helping Isak. He’d also made two trips to Paris just for the deal, and those had given him boosts toward fluency, like tiny immersion courses. Hubert noticed this a few minutes into their conversation.

“Your French has improved.”

“You may take all of the credit for that Hubert. If you hadn’t drawn this out so long I would’ve given up weeks ago.”

“I knew there was a point to all of this.”

“But seriously Hubert, I’m running out of time and patience. You know Geir and his schedules. If I can’t lock this down soon I’ll be forced to move onto something else.”

“Oh we wouldn’t want that now.”

Isak stayed quiet. He knew how Hubert acted sometimes, using silence to his advantage, waiting for his challenger to fill the void and show their hand.

“Come back to Paris.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come back to my office. We’ll have one more meeting and settle all of the details. You know we made so much progress in person. I’m sure we could figure it all out if you came over one more time. I promise I’ll make you a happy man." Hubert sounded giddy. "Oh, I can hear your forehead creasing over the phone.”

Isak felt his forehead, which was indeed wrinkled in confusion. He didn’t need to fly to Paris again, they were so close. Isak had met every one of Hubert’s demands with either an even exchange or a firm stance when the demands were borderline ridiculous. Which is what this was too. “That’s so unnecessary Hubert, and you know that.”

“I’m going to talk to Geir to arrange it. Something in January. I’ll buy us some time and then you can enjoy your holidays without having to worry about these little French impressionists.”

“Hubert, please.” Isak wasn’t begging. He wanted Hubert to feel how foolish this was, what a waste of time. He was starting to not care about these French impressionists at all.

“Oh, now you’re rolling your eyes. Isak, look. I’m working on some things here too, and if we just meet up in January I think I’ll have a lovely surprise to seal the deal. Now I won’t waste any more of your time on the phone, but do keep practicing your French. It’ll come in handy at dinner.”

“Hubert—“ The line went dead. Isak slammed down his phone, grateful for the landline if only so he could have a handset to let out his frustration with. He lifted the phone off the hook just to slam it down two more times. Then he ran to Geir’s office in an attempt at an interception.

* * *

_I know we said 8 again but how about now? I’m finishing up Ophie's walk._

_Ok_

Isak beat Ophelia to the door, attacking Even before he could step inside. He didn’t go right for his crotch, but it was close enough: full-bodied hug, mouth eating at Even’s lips so he couldn’t even say hello. Since Isak was clutching at him with every inch of his body it was up to Even to shuffle them into the apartment.

“That was lovely,” he managed to get out once Isak had unstuck himself. Isak wiped at his mouth and took a deep breath, stepping back to give Even space to take off his coat and shoes.

“Today was very frustrating and I needed…need to let out my anger.” Isak had a lot of energy that he wanted to direct toward a certain Frenchman, but Even was much more accessible.

“Oh, so I’m not a booty call, I’m a punching bag.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

They raced to the bedroom. Even immediately turned around though. “Shit, condoms are in my coat.” Isak’s mood lifted considerably anticipating the number Even would return with. And not necessarily because he was interested in multiple orgasms, but because he could use the condoms to gauge Even’s anticipation and expectations as well. What he couldn’t read on his face he was going to find out in his hand. Isak pulled off the tie he’d already loosened and started on the buttons of his shirt.

“Was it the museum?”

“Huh?” Isak turned around when Even reentered.

“That got you frustrated.”

“Oh, yeah. A trade I was working on has been delayed another month _and_ I’ll have to fly back to Paris for another meeting. And the reasons why are…well, I don’t exactly know why. But I’m sure it’s dumb.”

“Is this because of…Geir?” Even asked hesitantly, not sure if he remembered the name correctly.

“No, but he wasn’t any help in fixing it. Apparently this director has a reputation for drawn-out deals like this so he kind of just said I have to let it play out and then negotiate around him next time. I can tell you right now that there will be no next time.”

“Future you is putting your foot down!” Even offered an awkward yet supportive cheer.

“Yes, just like present you is taking off your clothes.” Isak regretted extending the awkward joke but at least it was effective. Even started undressing. “Oh, hey, how was this morning? I mean, did Ophelia bother you at all?”

When Isak had come home Ophelia greeted him at the door like normal, and the apartment looked the same. It didn’t seem like Even had showered or eaten anything, but the bed was made. He was mostly concerned with her getting rambunctious with the new overnight guest though, a new toy to play with once Isak had left for the day.

“No. She took your space on the bed but she was just sleeping when I woke up. Thanks for not kicking me out.” Even had worked faster than Isak and was already naked. He climbed back into the bed he’d only just vacated hours ago. That’s when Isak noticed the box of condoms he’d tossed up by the pillows.

“A box?!”

“I didn’t have time to make a proper estimate when you rang the alarm, so I just grabbed the whole box. We don’t have to use them all.”

“Oh jesus.” He must’ve been too hyped up at the office to think through a more moderate request of Even, instead of demanding his dick as soon as possible. But there wasn’t any point in agonizing over the text because that dick had arrived promptly and was ready and waiting. Isak finished getting undressed and joined him in bed.

“Now…before you start begging, I have to leave when we’re done.” Even caught his eye as he crawled toward him.

“First of all, I was not begging. And second of all, you really know how to set the mood.”

“Okay, you weren’t really begging me to stay, but you definitely were begging about other things. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of what is going to happen once we’re done with the box. Noora is getting worried that I’m never home.”

This seemed strange to Isak, but he tried to disguise his concern by opening the box and fishing out their first rubber of the evening. Surely Even could just explain that he’s spending time at someone else’s apartment, instead of rushing home? He would’ve been tempted to think Even was just using Noora as an excuse to leave, but after his conversation with Kim he understood that her worry had been established. Maybe it _was_ weird that Even was out each night, if he hadn’t been having sex, or going out, recently. But then it was also kind of weird that his roommate kept such close tabs on him. It had been a long time since Isak had a roommate, but he had rarely paid attention to their daily schedules, and he doubted they had done the same for him.

Isak’s contemplation was interrupted by Even’s hand tugging on his penis. He automatically let out a soft grunt at the sudden touch, and spread the knees he was resting on in order to give Even more access. He unwrapped the condom but held it off to the side. “If I give you a blowjob, do you want to come?”

“No, just get me close.” Even stole a kiss before Isak’s mouth became occupied with a different part of his body. He leaned back against the headboard and shifted his legs until Isak was between them. Isak kissed a random path down Even’s chest, letting his own body flatten out as he went.

“Fuck, you’re just…the hottest punching bag I’ve ever seen. With the biggest fucking dick.” Isak mumbled the compliment directly at Even’s cock and didn’t give him a chance to respond. He sucked the tip into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks, and all Even could do was gasp.


	12. Even

He had stayed too late. Everything was closed by the time he broke their last kiss at Isak’s door, so he walked home with an angry stomach. He was also worried that Noora was going to be upset, because technically it was Tuesday morning, and not the Monday night curfew he’d promised her. It wasn’t a pleasant trip back to the apartment.

Even was expecting Noora to be standing in the hall, hip cocked, arms crossed, staring down his tardy entrance, but no one was home. He zipped through the apartment and listened at both Eskild’s and Noora’s doors for telltale sounds (moans and typing, respectively). Then, feeling a bit giddy that he hadn’t been caught, he ransacked the refrigerator for dinner.

“Even?!” Not five minutes later Noora walked in and yelled from the hallway. Even leaned out the doorway to the kitchen and pulled his most innocent look.

“Yes?”

“Hi. Sorry if I kept you waiting. I’m glad you’re home.”

“It’s okay. I just got hungry. Do you want some?”

She followed him into the kitchen, to the stove, and investigated his offerings over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if it was actually a dish since he wasn’t following a recipe, but it smelled good. “Hmm. I’ll get a plate but you need to taste it first and tell me if it’s okay.” Noora helped him prepare the rest of their meal, grabbing utensils and drinks and ripping a couple of paper towels off the roll to use for napkins. Even carried the sizzling pan to the table and split the food in half between their plates.

“So….”

Even was blowing on his food to get it to cool down but he looked up, pretending to be surprised that Noora sounded like she wanted to talk.

“I just wanted to…check in with you, see how you are doing.”

“Are you still mad about Friday?”

“What? No. We talked about that. I understand that you needed to leave.”

“You’re doing that thing where you’re mad but instead of like, being mad you just get tense.”

Noora dropped her shoulders, as if that was enough to dispel Even’s theory. “No, I’m just worried. I asked you to text me if you needed to like, escape anything, and you said you would, but then you disappeared on Saturday again and then didn’t come home on Sunday and it seems like something is going on because you were sticking to your regular schedule for a while and…I know how you get sometimes.” She wasn’t mad, but she had been tense, and now she was letting her worries unfurl with relative speed. Steam from their plates drifted up between them.

Even had to take a moment to confirm the truth, but then he could say it: “I think I’m fine.”

Noora’s shoulders relaxed even further. “Okay.”

“I’m eating.”

“Right.”

“ _You_ just got home from work at 1 in the morning.” He got her to smile. Noora picked up her fork and flicked a chunk of potato hard enough to skip over Even’s plate and into his lap. “Ah!”

“Well I filed so I’m done. My Christmas vacation just officially started.”

“Congratulations! Are you going anywhere?” He thought he would’ve heard by now if she had travel plans, but maybe he’d forgotten in the intensity that was being with Isak.

“A tiny place, not sure if you’ve heard of it…the couch?”

Even snorted. “Nice. I’ve heard good things…someone once called it ‘striking.’”

“Yeah, I had a lot of options but that won out in the end. I’m going to make everyone on Instagram so jealous.”

Their food had finally cooled enough to eat, so they did. Noora seemed satisfied by Even’s presence, and they talked about other, less important things. Even wanted to talk about Isak, to prepare Noora for future sudden disappearances and nights spent away, but he also didn’t know if that was true. They hadn’t talked before he left, not significantly, about the next time they’d see each other. It was just a silly, hour-long struggle to keep kissing Isak while also putting on clothes and moving toward his door. Isak only finally let him go when Even pointed out that the way Isak was kind of humping his hip as they walked counted as begging. The key to his escape was Isak’s conflicting desire to prove him wrong, and instead of saying goodbye or making plans, he simply yelled, “Not begging!” as Even walked away. It was a funny moment, the last panel of a page in a comic, and he hadn’t wanted to ruin it by doubling back to ask if he could see him again.

Noora helped him clean up when they were done, even though Even insisted she should get to bed. 

“I don’t know, I kind of want to stay up and see who Eskild drags in through the door. I’ve also been meaning to ask him what his holiday work schedule is like.”

“Probably not the best time to do that.”

Noora cringed in agreement. “You’re working, right?”

“Not technically. The office is closed but I might just go and…hang out. Get a head start on things.” As he said it, Even realized it could work well as an excuse for his absences, if needed. He could even get away with dressing more casually if he was pretending to go to an empty office.

“Okay. Well there’s plenty of room on the couch if you’d like to join me.”

“Thanks, Noora. Maybe.”

They left the kitchen together, only letting their paths diverge once they hit their bedrooms. Both of them were tired enough to not really care about their appropriate preparations before sleeping. They probably let their bodies fall into bed at the same time.

* * *

Even hadn’t set an alarm, so he was lucky that Noora began her official holiday Netflix marathon at such an early hour and such a high volume; Even’s brain registered a show’s opening theme song as an alarm jingle and tried turning off his phone to quiet it. When he wasn’t successful, he had to wake up. He literally rolled himself out of bed and grabbed whatever clean clothes were in reach and still counted as an outfit. He mumbled something vague at Noora as he passed the couch on the way to the bathroom. She mumbled something vague in return.

Like most of history’s great thinkers, Even’s brain didn’t start functioning properly until he was standing over the toilet with his dick in his hand. He walked himself through the basics: what day it was, what day tomorrow was going to be, if he was hungry. Then he stepped into the shower and figured out what the next few hours of his life were going to be like.

Ten seconds later he stepped back out of the shower and wiped his hands. He dug for his phone under the pile of clothes balanced precariously at the edge of the sink. He couldn’t figure out what the next few hours of his life were going to be like until he knew if he was going to see Isak during any of them, and that required knowing if the museum was open. He’d seen the notice about the holiday hours but couldn’t remember the details. His mind refused to move forward until this mystery was solved, so he stood there dripping and cold while he navigated the website.

The museum was open. Even paused a minute before jumping back into the shower, not sure if he was done with the internet for the next five minutes. He checked Isak’s Instagram just for good measure, then surrendered to the water.

The museum was open. He should go. He should find a new piece to practice on. It didn’t matter if Isak was there or not. He’d made the trip many times before, before he knew Isak existed, and there was a point to them, a challenge and a reward. It was still a good way to spend his weekend. He really should just take Isak out of the equation entirely, because he knew how stressed he was about work (no matter how often they tried to relax). If he hadn’t already begun his vacation, he’d probably be under a lot of pressure to get work done before he left anyway. And it was the _museum_. Even wasn’t supposed to exist there, as anything but another member, and technically he was cheating at that too.

As he tilted his head back to rinse out the shampoo suds, he made his final decision. The museum was open and he would go. He’d find Ed and buy a proper membership, instead of scanning Noora’s card with a wink and a smile. Then he would know that he belonged there no matter what, Isak or not. Except…fuck, he hoped Isak would be there. It had only been about ten hours since he was at his apartment and already he missed looking at him. It wasn’t possible, but Even faintly worried that he was beginning to forget the features that he’d come to learn. He could look at his old sketches but he knew that he’d seen a thousand more expressions in the last few days to make him feel like his animations were a completely different person. He wanted to see Isak because he wanted to see more.

Even put on his outfit and wrapped his head in the towel, a habit he had picked up from Eskild.

“Museum?” Noora asked as he walked past her again.

“Yeah. It’s the last day they’re open before Christmas.”

“Don’t want to miss all of that…old…art.”

Her sarcasm was dripping all over the living room. “Actually, Cupid and the Goddesses are going back to Denmark next week so yeah…I don’t want to miss them.”

Even thought his correction, which he came up with on the spot, was scathing enough to silence Noora, but just as he was about to close the door to his room he heard her get in the last laugh. 

“Say hello to Isak for me.”

* * *

Even forgot that he wanted to purchase a membership as soon as he entered the museum. He was so overwhelmed by his growing hope of seeing Isak that his body was on autopilot, and he went through the motions of scanning Noora’s card without thinking. He checked for his preferred locker to store his coat and backpack, setting the same code and squeezing between everyone else making the shift out of their winter wear. He took the steps to the gallery two at a time, his legs forgetting the nerves he’d felt the last time he walked this staircase and his feet sure in their broken-in boots. 

He’d spent the entire bus ride making assumptions and narrowing down his options, so that by the time he was pulling open that heavy front door, he knew exactly where he thought he should be. He walked straight through six rooms, barely registering their contents, until he was in the larger hall where he’d first seen Isak on Friday. Oh, and Cupid and the Goddesses. He was still a little proud of his quick retort even though Noora managed to see right through it. Besides, she wasn’t going to get in the way of his fantasy, of finding Isak in his suit, waiting for him again.

The hall was crowded. His eye was drawn to the two statues, partly because they were the tallest things in the room and partly because that’s where he expected Isak to be standing. But it was just a sea of people enjoying their holiday, and the hum of the room was a little louder than usual. The hall had natural light, so along with its occupants, the shadows were different from the other night. It was louder but softer, and as he noticed every small change, Even’s fantasy of his return to Isak was already unraveling. He walked through the hall slowly, pretending to look at the art.

Even was quickly starting to feel foolish. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up for a romantic reunion. It had worked well for them on Friday, but that was mostly because he knew Isak was going to be there. It was silly to think he could recreate a chance encounter with even less control over the situation, and ridiculous on top of that considering that he _could_ have control. He could just text Isak and ask where he is. He could’ve just texted Isak at any point during his entire trip to the museum instead of daydreaming about the smile he’d get when their eyes met across the gallery floor. Then he would have an answer, instead of the regret and disappointment that was dripping down his back like a nervous sweat. Even left the hall, moving on to the next room. He stepped off to the side after getting past the doorway.

He should text him now. Pull out his phone, fire off something quick and straightforward. Once he knew where Isak was, then he could figure out his next steps. Then he could know where his hopes should lie: in another meeting, or in another day spent alone with the art. But his phone stayed in his pocket. People kept walking past him. Even wanted an answer, but he also didn’t, in case it was the wrong one. So he stood in the corner, frozen with indecision. In fact, he was alone with the art.

“Sketching?”

Even jumped. An actual literal jump, away from the voice, the body, that appeared at his left. “Shit.”

“Shh.” Isak was smiling behind a finger held up to his mouth. “You’re in a museum.”

Even laughed, just to let his nervous energy escape. He wanted to punch Isak’s shoulder for the fright but knew he would just be teased for that too.

“I saw you run in but I was just finishing up a private tour, so I couldn’t step away. You looked like you were on your way to rescue a kitten from a burning building.” Isak stepped closer to Even, to close the gap Even had created with his jump.

“I had to find something else to draw since you took away my sculptures.” Even tried to deflect with the old joke, buy himself some time. As much as he wished for it, he didn’t know what to do with Isak now that he was here.

“Cupid isn’t good enough for you?” Isak nodded his head toward the hall behind them.

“Too busy.”

“Ah. Then let’s go.” Isak walked around him, returning to the flow of patrons. Even followed, wondering what hiding place they would visit next.

Isak led him through two rooms, moving with purpose but not rushed. Even didn’t feel like he was going to lose him at any point. This let him, as they walked, visualize how Isak’s shoulders moved underneath his suit. But then he had to stop when Isak stopped. “If the gods are too much, try some realism. Chardin.” They looked at the trio of genre paintings, small oils on canvas grouped together on the wall.

“They’re all playing.” He didn’t turn to see Isak’s response to his observation. Perhaps there wasn’t one. Instead he leaned in closer to take in the details.

This room was quieter than the hall. If he took the time to observe it, Even would see that it was a tight line of predominately still life paintings, their dark backgrounds anchoring the light pink of the walls they hung on. But he stayed with the Chardin, the few depictions of humans, because Isak had brought him to them. He could draw anything for practice, really, but bodies usually took precedence because most of what he drew and animated were humans. He left the monsters and animals up to the ones who didn’t mind letting their imaginations roam.

Even stepped back after he had gotten his fill. He reached for the pad that was tucked under his armpit, largely forgotten in his pursuit of something else, a kitten in a burning building. But his body’s muscle memory had kept it clenched in place, and he pulled it out with one hand while the other drew the short pencil out of his back pocket.

He gave a quick glance to his left to see if anyone else was nearby; if he was going to start drawing, he didn’t want to settle in a place that would be in the way of other people. He took another step back and glanced to his right, as if he were backing a car into a parking space. That’s when he noticed Isak was gone. Except he wasn’t really gone, just further away than he had been. When Even spun all the way around he found him sitting on the couch that was in the middle of the room, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded and resting on his raised knee.

“You don’t have to sit,” he whispered once Even was close enough to hear. “I know you prefer to stand. I’ve just been on my feet all morning.”

“I don’t have to stand either.” Even settled into the couch. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it was still a relief. Or maybe that was just the proximity to Isak that was helping him relax. He’d accomplished his first quest. Even began to draw a hand.

* * *

“May I have that?”

Even was just about to flip to a clean page, having taken up the first one with five studies. He looked at Isak, for the first time in the last hour of sketching, to see if he was serious. He was. “They’re just practice.”

“So you don’t need them, correct?”

Even could argue that he used them as reference, though that was barely true. He rarely revisited his sketches, his used-up pads joining a growing pile in his apartment once he flipped the last page. The one exception was when he had sketched Isak and used those pages for his animations. He looked at the hands and tried to figure out why Isak would want them. They weren’t even complete; he jumped from one pose to the next as soon as he got bored with a certain shape. But still, his own fingers slid up to the binding to tear the paper across the top. “Okay.”

“Thank you. I like that you saw the hands.” Isak took the paper gently. He watched as Isak looked at it, cradling the hands at the edges.

Then Isak looked up at him. “I have to go back to work now. And then…I have to go to my mom’s. For Christmas. So um…we can’t get together tonight.” Isak was blushing furiously, which Even would have made fun of him for, if he didn’t also feel embarrassed about the reference. This whole time they’d manage to avoid confronting how their relationship had changed over the weekend, blissfully sliding back into being innocent peers, two people admiring and studying art. But then Isak had asked for his sketches, and that seemed to trigger the shift, bringing their sex life out into the public of the well-lit room.

Even didn’t know if he was embarrassed of the fact that they were having sex, or the fact that he’d been expecting to continue having sex for the fourth night in a row. He blushed too, realizing that his next quest was to return to Isak’s apartment. “That’s fine.” He tried to laugh it off. “It _is_ Christmas.”

“Right, but…well…whatever. I think I’ll be back on Saturday. Are you working?”

Even had to pause to think. Saturday was so far away. But then he nodded.

“You don’t get vacation?”

“I do, but I don’t take traditional ones.”

“Ah, just like your schedule.”

He nodded again.

“Okay, well…I’ll text you when I’m back?” Isak’s voice rose in a question, as if he were asking permission to do the texting. He clarified: “I’d like to see you when I’m back.”

“Yes. Please.” 

“Great.” It came out with a gust of air, a held breath. And that seemed to come with a burst of confidence, enough to propel Isak to stand. “Great. I’ll text you.” He held Even’s piece of paper in a small yet secure pinch at the corner, and it waved with the movement.

Even’s heart was pounding, but he remained still. He tried to ignore how this small development made him feel, rather focusing on how Isak was handling it. Maybe he’d figure out how he was supposed to feel by watching Isak, instead of having to acknowledge that the promise of a text was sending him to the moon. He was gripping his sketchpad with the strength of someone desperate to remain on earth.

“Have a good Christmas.” Isak started to walk away, but then he spun on his heel to face Even. He spun away again, deciding to keep walking, except he stopped. “Fuck.” One more spin. “Can I kiss you?”

It made sense that Isak was asking permission for this too. If he wasn’t sure if he could text Even, then it would make sense that he wouldn’t be sure about kissing Even either. But Even still wanted to laugh, because this second request sounded ridiculous. He didn’t take the time to figure out why though, why a text would make him swoon and a kiss would make him scoff. “I didn’t know I was allowed to stop you.”

“You’re right.” Another gust of air. “You aren’t.” Isak moved fast, his knees bumping into Even’s and his free hand going right for Even’s jaw. He held the paper away from their bodies so it wouldn’t get ruined in his descent. Even watched as Isak’s face closed in, seeing how his skin smoothed out the second he stopped thinking about what he was doing. His eyes fluttered shut and his mouth popped open and Even figured out that he needed to do the same just in the nick of time.


	13. Isak

Christmas was fine. Isak’s mom drove to his apartment, he loaded up Ophelia, and he took the wheel for the drive back to her house. She didn’t live very far—just outside the city center—but her house was back up against the edge of the forest and far enough from his apartment to feel like he was escaping something. He spent a few days dressed in clothes that barely passed as more than pajamas, eating himself to stuffed at every meal, and taking long walks with Ophelia and a headlamp through the woods. It was fine.

He thought about Even a lot. He thought about him when Marianne asked if he was seeing someone. He thought about him when he was alone in bed. He thought about him when he opened a Christmas gift from his mom, a three-pack of socks featuring famous paintings. “Did you buy these from my own gift shop?”

“No,” she chided, while swatting at him with some discarded wrapping paper. “I found them online. You’re always wearing those boring suits and I thought you could spice it up a bit.”

Normally he would have rolled his eyes and continued teasing Marianne for such a corny gift, but instead he pulled off his slippers and socks and tried on the first pair. Mona Lisa’s face stretched wide as he tugged them up to his calves. “Technically I think she’s smiling now. Thanks, Mamma.”

Marianne beamed at the earnest appreciation for the socks. Isak wiggled his toes. He picked up his phone and took a picture, doing his best to make it look like the way those women on Instagram pose, like the one thing they had to accomplish that day was holding their face near a coffee mug and they just ticked it off their to-do list. It felt weird and his legs looked short when he folded them up.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He stuck out one foot and snapped a photo. That just looked like he’d chopped off someone’s leg and was submitting it to a criminal investigation file for evidence.

“Why are you kicking your legs about?”

Isak gave up. “I don’t know.” He knew why, but he didn’t want to get into explaining Even to his mother. She never quite understood his personal habit of quick hook-ups, relationships that were barely anything more than sex and were over before he had a chance to return her weekly phone calls. There wasn’t much point in introducing Even if he would be gone by the time she got around to asking about him again.

Except here he was taking a picture of his fucking feet, an attractive one, no less, because he wanted to share his Christmas gift with Even. He didn’t know much about the guy except how far he could get down his throat before Isak gagged, but he was still making an effort to build something based on the few other things he knew. Even liked fun socks, and had a wide variety of them. Here was a chance to connect two things that they enjoyed. In the very least it was a reason to text him in advance of the planned _Let's fuck_ text on Saturday.

Isak deleted all of the photos of his feet. He took one photo of the socks still in the package, but he didn’t send it. He tried to focus back on his mother, on Christmas, on the fact that it wasn’t Saturday. “Ophie! Come!” They listened to her toenails clacking on the wood floor as she trotted out to the living room. “Do you want to open your present?”

Marianne got excited, popping up from the couch to get the toy she had painstakingly wrapped for the dog.

“What is it?” Isak could tell that it was in the shape of a bone, but just about anything meant for dogs was shaped like that these days.

“A rope toy.”

“Oh. Well if it isn’t an actual food she might not bother trying to unwrap it.”

Ophelia was sniffing at the paper. She gingerly took the toy into her mouth, but clearly wasn’t inspired to rip it open. She delivered the gift to Isak’s lap. He rewarded the gesture with a few pats on her shoulder. Marianne looked slightly disappointed that Ophelia didn’t engage like a five-year-old hopped up on the magic of a new toy. She returned to the couch. “I guess I’ll get food next year.”

“She likes toys. I just think she doesn’t know that this _is_ one.” Ophelia was waiting in front of him so he started to unwrap it. She tilted her head at the aggressive sound the paper made.

“This reminds me of when you were a baby and we got you presents but you didn’t know what to do with them either. We’d wrap them and then unwrap them and feel silly for the pageantry. But eventually you caught on.”

Ophelia caught on. Her tail started whipping about and she sat, doing a trick in order to receive the reward that Isak now held. “Are you saying Ophelia is my baby?”

“I’d like to see you try to deny it.” Marianne had a point and Isak let her keep it. He teased Ophelia with the unwrapped toy, waving it about and pretending to throw it. “Not at the tree, please.”

Isak twisted his torso around and chucked the rope into the hallway. Ophelia waited for his release cue and then shot after it. He was now committed to a game of fetch for the next thirty minutes at least, which was fine. They weren’t in a rush to do anything else except enjoy each other’s company. Marianne returned to her mug of tea and Isak shooed away thoughts of Even in between each toss.

* * *

Isak only sent one text, which he was proud of. He managed to wait until he was back at the apartment, at least a full minute after dropping off his bag; he typed out a _Let’s Fuck_ and sent it off with a whoosh as he took Ophelia back outside for her evening walk.

About ten minutes into the walk he got a reply. _Are you home?_

_Walking Ophelia._

_Ok_

Isak didn’t think anything of it. They never had terribly lengthy text conversations, so Even was just completing the puzzle. Isak established the action, Even established the location. Done. The timing was vague again, but Isak was less concerned about it now. Any time was good.

So he walked Ophelia on her regular route. The park was quieter than usual, but they still met a few of the other dogs that were on the same schedule. One woman noted that Ophelia seemed more subdued, but Isak explained that away with a recap of their earlier forest excursions. In fact he probably could have reduced her walk, but this might buy him more time in the morning, if he is able to completely exhaust her. So he didn’t take any shortcuts, and Ophelia was walking much slower by the time they turned the corner onto their street.

But then she froze and pointed. Isak followed her line of sight to see what caught her attention, and saw a figure standing outside his apartment building. Ophelia normally didn’t react to strangers, so he thought this was strange, but he let her stalk toward the person for a bit before he called her off. Maybe something smelled strange. Isak sniffed.

“Ophelia!” The figure called out her name and the dog instantly relaxed. If the leash weren’t tightly twisted up in his fist, Isak would’ve let it slip away when Ophelia lunged for the man. Instead she nearly pulled his shoulder out of its socket and made him yelp.

“Sorry!” Even called, running toward them. Ophelia kept tugging until she met him halfway. “Sorry sorry sorry.” Isak was relieved when he saw Even if only because it meant Ophelia would stop running, and she did as soon as she could get a whiff of his crotch. “Sorry. Hi. Sorry.”

“Shit.” Isak doubled over and tried to free his hand. The leash was wrapped tight and burning his skin. He wanted to growl at Ophelia but technically she didn’t do anything wrong. He’d always allowed her to greet people she knew enthusiastically. It was his own fault he wasn’t prepared to see Even at his door, despite having invited him there.

“Here.” Even took the leash from Isak as soon as his hand was free.

“Thanks. Jesus. When did you get here?”

“Whenever I texted you. I was buzzing but you weren’t answering.”

“Aw shit, you’ve been outside this whole time? Come on.” Isak shook his hand out to try to get rid of some of the sting. They followed Ophelia to the door and he let them in with his keys.

“Sorry, it…you sounded kind of urgent in the text and I was right at the office so….”

“No, I’m sorry. I forgot you were working and I thought it would take you some time to get over here.” They apologized over each other as they climbed the stairs. Ophelia went straight for the apartment and waited while Isak unlocked it. “You can just unclip her and let her go.” He didn’t have any sort of end-of-walk rules for Ophelia unless it was muddy out and he needed to wipe down her paws. Even did as he was told and she zipped inside before the door was open all the way. “I have to feed her first but then we can, y’know, get to the…”

“Fucking.”

“That.” They removed their coats and shoes. Even followed Isak to the kitchen and watched as he scooped kibble into Ophelia’s bowl. Then they stood there while Ophelia chewed, and she easily ignored how awkward both of them were being.

“How…is your mom?”

“She’s fine. She got me socks for Christmas.” Isak pointed at Even’s feet, which were purple with lightning bolts on the top.

“These?”

“Not as fun. But they have paintings on them.”

“That sounds…on brand.”

Isak let out a huff of a laugh but didn’t look up. Instead he opened up the palm of his hand and lightly ran his fingers over the red burn. The top layer of his skin looked like it was going to peel off.

“Does it hurt?” Even had walked close and took Isak’s hand, cupping it in his own. He brought it up to his face.

“Not much. I’ll have to use my other hand if I want to smack you though.”

Even smiled, but Isak barely caught it before Even pressed his mouth to Isak’s palm and kissed the burn. It stung from the pressure but Isak didn’t dare pull his hand away. It was the right kind of pain, worth the touch. Isak let him have his way with his hand, his wrist, the softer skin of the underside of his arm, as Even pushed back the sleeve of his sweater with his nose and kept kissing. He was almost to the inside of Isak’s elbow when the wool had hit its limit, so he pulled Isak closer and jumped to the next available section of skin: his neck.

Isak tilted his head and let out a soft moan. He wrapped his arms around Even’s waist, pulling him in tight and settling against his hips. He made his body available to Even to feast on, encouraging his tongue and teeth and hands and dick to feel what they wanted to feel. He spread his legs to make space for Even, for the perfect fit. Even mumbled his approval of the shift, which let him straddle Isak’s left leg and thrust up against him. They were hard and growing and that friction was nice, for now. He kept working on a love bite on the side of Isak’s neck but engaged the rest of his body as well as he could while they were standing.

Ophelia finished her dinner and retired to the living room.

* * *

Somehow they had reached Isak’s bed. He suspected it involved more stumbling and kissing but if you asked him in that moment he wouldn’t have the clarity of mind to give you an answer, let alone figure out how. In the last ten minutes he’d lost an entire verbal language. All he could do was stand there, catch his breath, and try not to lose sight of Even, who had whipped around him with incredible speed.

“Is everything in the closet?”

“Everything?”

Even was at his closet, opening the drawer where he kept most of his sex-related supplies. “You have poppers.” He held up one of the tiny bottles as if Isak needed the visual aid. And maybe he did.

“Um, yeah. You can use it if you want.”

“Maybe.” Even scooped up a condom and the bottle of lube along with the poppers and closed the closet. He was prepared. “Want to know what I did for Christmas?”

“Uhhhhhh….” Isak was honestly struggling.

Even tossed the supplies onto the bed and then continued unbuttoning his shirt, finishing what Isak had started in the hallway. He gave Isak plenty of time to come up with an answer before indulging him with a smirk. “Fingered myself.”

“The…the whole day?”

Even laughed, a deep boom that interrupted the removal of his jeans. “That would’ve been a nice gift for myself, eh? But no, just enough to get comfortable. My gift to _you_.”

It clicked then, what exactly Even was prepared for, and it sent another shudder through Isak’s whole body. While he didn’t think it was necessary, the mere offer to bottom was an incredible turn-on. He hadn’t been with someone vers in a very long time, and never with anyone so generous about it either. He’d always had to ask if he wanted it, and he’d gotten used to not bothering; he would just take whatever he could get. Isak tugged at his dick through his pants. “That’s…so…nice.”

Even laughed again. “I mean, it wasn’t the most selfless act in the world. I’d forgotten how much I liked it, with you, and had to make do while you were gone.” He was naked then, gloriously naked, throwing back the covers of Isak’s bed and trying not to lose their supplies in the linens.

Isak should’ve been undressing, if only to relieve the pressure on his erection. But he was so distracted watching Even move, his own dick bouncing around in the open air, to bother catching up. He liked how it looked, the whole thing. He liked having Even in his room, knowing where things were, comfortable enough to be naked.

“Going to make me do all of the work, hmm?” Even stepped to him again, making the soft accusation right before latching onto his neck, not giving Isak the chance to defend himself. He went back to work on the hickey, and his hands picked up the slack on the rest of his clothes.

“You…do such a good job, so….” Isak felt Even smile, which broke the suction on his skin.

“Some things are just too easy.” To support his point he gave one strong tug on Isak’s pants and they fell into a puddle at his feet. Isak stepped out of them while Even moved onto his sweater and got rid of that just as efficiently. He was down to black briefs and their small wet spot, thanks to all of the rubbing that had happened in the kitchen. Even sat on the end of the bed to review his work. “I’m going to have to start drawing you naked, huh,” he mused to himself. He used one finger to trace a muscle on Isak’s belly, which flexed under the light touch.

“The hands were a good start.”

“Huh?”

When Even looked up at him Isak almost fainted. Fuck, that was a look. He held the entire question in his face, small as it was, as well as the expectation that Isak would answer it completely. Isak managed to step away though, to walk over to his desk and pick up the page from Even’s sketchbook that had been lying next to his laptop ever since he brought it home. “You drew my hands.” Exhibit A, your honor.

“No, those were just…hands. Hands from the paintings. Chardin.”

“Hold it.” Even took the paper. Isak sat down next to him on the bed and crossed his legs like he usually did whenever he was observing in the museum. Then he folded his hands on top of his knee. He had to adjust it slightly to mimic the angle that Even had used, but then it was undeniable.

“Oh shit.”

“Did…did you not realize you were drawing me?” 

Even looked so shocked that Isak believed his innocence. “I wasn’t…I wasn’t even studying you. I thought I was drawing hands the way Chardin did.” He looked back and forth between the page and Isak’s hands. “Jesus.”

“You did a great job. But that’s why I asked for the page, because I thought you were drawing me.”

Even fell backward, collapsing in embarrassment. Isak plucked the page out of his hands before it got creased in shame. He returned it to his desk. Even had thrown an arm across his eyes, trying to hide his face. Isak took another moment just to watch Even. He walked quietly to the end of the bed as to not disturb the glorious nudity in front of him. He liked that it wasn’t related to whatever Even was hiding from. Finally, he couldn’t resist. He crawled onto the bed over Even’s body and trapped all of it beneath him. It wasn’t terribly comfortable, so he sat up and just straddled Even’s thighs instead. He pulled Even’s arm away from his face.

“I just thought you really liked hands. Sometimes that’s people’s…thing.”

Isak shrugged. “Haven’t really thought about it. But I like your hands.” He took one in each of his, twining their fingers together. Isak could feel the calluses on Even’s right hand, from holding the pencil. He rubbed the rough skin.

“My hands like you.” Said hands broke free. Even grabbed Isak’s waist and lifted him up. Isak went easy, having been caught but surprise, and he was tossed onto his back next to Even. Even rolled on top of him with all of his weight.

“Ooof.”

“My hands like you like this.”

“Lucky for them I’m not moving.”

Even was smiling again, smirking. He seemed to be over his embarrassment, or at least very ready to move on. He got rid of the last bit of clothing between them, Isak’s underwear, pulling them off and flinging them away with a flourish. Then his hands went right to Isak’s dick. He took a soft yet firm grip and started long strokes, and oh yes, Isak fucking loved Even’s hands. He arched up into them, asking for more.

They didn’t really talk from then on. There wasn’t much room in the bed for additional commentary, and by now they knew each other’s bodies well enough to work without words. Even directed Isak closer to the middle of the bed, but still on his back. He got a pillow for his head, a condom for his dick, and then straddled him just like Isak had done before. Even did ask if it was okay, the position, but that probably could’ve been accomplished nonverbally as well. He lubed up his hole. A simple eyebrow raised asked if Isak was ready. A quick nod was given in return. Even unscrewed the cap on the small bottle, took one whiff into his left nostril, then closed it off and did another hit with his right. Even was ready too. He supported himself with a hand on Isak’s chest while he lined himself up with the other. He relaxed and dropped down and they moaned in unison.

Isak wasn’t using real words, but he was still loud. Even moved faster this time, compared to their first attempt on the couch. It was still a tight fit, deliciously tight, and Isak still felt like he was the one being fucked. Even towered over him and squeezed as he rode, and all Isak could do was hold onto Even’s hips and pretend he had any sort of control of the situation. He mumbled and whimpered and panted and whined, and that was all Even needed to get him to the edge within minutes. Even chased those whines until Isak could barely get air into his lungs, and then he joined him in lightheaded ecstasy.

“Come. Yes, come, baby. Shit, I can feel it.” Even stroked himself while Isak unloaded in his ass. He came on Isak’s chest, shooting all the way up to his neck, and dribbling a trail down to his belly. It burned, the right kind of burn.

“Fuck, Even. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck….” The curse came out with every breath and didn’t stop, because there weren’t any other words that he could think of. All he had was the heat spreading across his chest, the pressure enveloping his dick, and the weight of a man with a gift. “Fuck.”

Even pulled off slowly by simply leaning forward. He had a hand behind him to catch the condom, and the change in grip made Isak jerk about. The fucks got louder for a moment. “Shhh.” Even kept going, lying out flat on top of Isak, not caring about the cum that was going to glue their chests together. He regulated Isak’s breathing with his body; Isak had to take deeper breaths under the heat and heaviness, and that’s how he slowly regained control.

Even licked the bit of cum at his neck, cleaning up that one spot that seemed to attract all of his attention. He kept his face buried there until Isak grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him up. He found a couple new words: “Kiss me.” Their mouths were open and slow, still focusing on recovery while also satisfying a craving. They tasted and breathed and stayed.

About twenty minutes later, after their kisses were reduced to the occasional sleepy peck, Isak finally said something else. “Thank you.”

“It was, literally, my pleasure.”

“Did it hurt less this time?”

Even nodded. Their faces were still so close that their noses bumped when he did. Isak counted it as another kiss.

“Good. Okay. So, we have three options.”

Even gave a small grunt.

“Option one: you roll over and get another condom and fuck me.”

Grunt.

“Option two: you roll over and get another condom and fuck me in the shower.”

Grunt.

“Option three: we ignore this mess and just go to sleep. We revisit options one and two in the morning.”

Even let out a long sigh. His breath was warm against Isak’s skin, which had finally cooled down. “What happens after option one?”

“You won’t find out unless you choose it. But if it were up to me it would just be…option two.”

“Greedy bitch.” They laughed. Even rolled off of Isak quickly, using the joke as a distraction from the pain of ungluing themselves. Isak still squeaked at the sting though. “And after that it’s option three, right?”

Isak thought for a moment. “Yes, but if we go through option one and option two, then it unlocks option two part b where I change the sheets before we go to sleep.”

“How about option four where I go home and shower and get clean clothes because I have to be at work tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately whoever designed this game didn’t write in that option. It doesn’t exist. Sorry.”

Even sighed again and clicked his tongue. Isak watched him stare at the ceiling, and the amount of silence that followed made him think Even was actually trying to figure out a different option for them. One through three hadn’t been acceptable.

“Well, if you want to leave, you can. Of course.” Isak gave Even an out. But he didn’t give up. “But your office is probably empty. No one will notice if you’re wearing the same clothes. Or you can borrow something of mine. I recently upgraded my selection of socks.”

Even turned his head to look at Isak. He gave him a warm smile. “I think this game is getting a little too complicated for me.”

Isak’s stomach sank and his whole body tensed. He felt like Even was about to bolt. “Wait…wait,” he whispered. “Are we still talking about sex?”

Even scratched at the dry cum that had transferred to his chest. “I don’t know.”

Isak took a deep breath. He was still tense, and now there was the added confusion that they didn’t know what they were talking about at all. He had been afraid that he was scaring Even off, asking for more sex and to stay overnight, but now he had no clue what he was doing. And he didn’t know where to begin to fix it. “What…do you want to do?”

Another moment of silence.

“Pee.” Even shot up, almost bouncing out of bed. He disappeared. Isak heard him greet Ophelia in the hallway on his way to the bathroom.

Isak stared at the ceiling. “Fuck.”


	14. Even

Even stared at the shower handle. “Fuck.” He gave it one more twist, and when nothing happened, he finally gave up. He walked back to the bedroom. “Isak.”

Isak propped himself up on his elbows. “Are you leaving?”

“No. Your shower is broken.”

“Eh?” Isak scrambled out of his bed and almost ran past Even to get to the bathroom. He reached it first and had to call out to Even to catch up. “It’s not broken.”

Even leaned in over his shoulder. “I was turning it, both ways, and water wasn’t coming out.”

“Watch.” Isak turned the handle back to the middle. “Middle is warm.” Then he pulled it out of the wall. “Pull to turn on.” Water immediately rained down on them, so they jumped back out.

“Shit.”

Isak chuckled. “It’s okay. You’re not the first one to break my shower.” Even gently shoved his shoulder, which made him smirk. “I’ll go get you a towel.”

After Isak left Even stuck his hand around the curtain to test the temperature. It was warm, but could be hotter, so he twisted the handle properly. Then he poked his head around the other side of the curtain to check for Isak’s shampoo and soap. He had a fluffy loofah just like Eskild, and a couple of other bottles that he didn’t know the purpose of. Once he saw steam rising to the ceiling Even stepped into the stall.

“Hey. Towel is here. Do you want to borrow any clothes?” Isak shouted over the noise. 

Even whipped back the curtain. “Join me.”

Isak didn’t move. Water started spraying onto the floor.

“Option whatever. Please.” Even held out his hand, which Isak finally took. Even pulled him into the shower as if he were pulling Isak onto a dance floor. They moved like they were too, circling each other until they were comfortably close, sharing the warmth of the water. Even leaned into Isak’s ear. “I’ll stay with you tonight.”

Isak backed away so he could look Even in the eye. “No, you don’t have to. You can leave. I’m sorry I…pressured you.”

“You didn’t. You were just being cute. I’m going to stay.” Even twisted away to grab the shampoo bottle, effectively stopping Isak from further protest. He was good at that. He squeezed out a dollop of shampoo onto his palm and then ran it through Isak’s hair, tilting his head back with a light massage. Isak closed his eyes against the suds. Even felt his dick swelling against his hip, and he encouraged it with another hickey on his exposed neck. He felt Isak swallow under his lips.

Even thought he would be fine as long as they didn’t talk, if he didn’t have to answer Isak’s question. What he wanted was to not answer him. And the only way he could accomplish that was to run away. He was going to pee and get dressed and go, because it was true, he had to go back to work the next day. But then Ophelia was waiting in the hallway, watching him, and he had to say hello and give her a quick pet. That’s when he realized he would just have to avoid Isak without being a dick about it. Even if he couldn’t give him an answer, he could give him kindness.

They didn’t talk in the shower. They cleaned each other and relaxed under the water. Even played with Isak’s dick. He teased him enough that Isak reached around him to grab a bottle. Apparently one of the ones he couldn’t identify was actually lube, not something fancy he would see next to the bathroom sink in a French restaurant. Even fingered him with a slow handjob, Isak clinging to his shoulders, and he pulled another orgasm out just as the water started to cool. They rinsed off and stepped out.

He could tell Isak wanted to talk. Now that the water was off, there was quiet that was begging to be filled. He smothered it with the towel, wrapping it around Isak and then wrapping his own body in another layer around him. They stood in the bathroom and hugged, occasionally rubbing at visible water droplets on their skin.

“Are you tired?”

“No. Do you need a toothbrush?” Isak unwrapped the towel and draped it around Even’s waist, tucking it in at the front.

Even chuckled. “It sounds like you think I need a toothbrush.”

Isak rolled his eyes. “I’m not implying anything, just offering.” He turned to the drawers below his sink and whipped one open.

“Whoa whoa whoa, _why_ do you have twenty toothbrushes? Oh my god Isak.” Even shoved his hand in like it was a treasure chest, swirling his fingers through the individually wrapped brushes.

“I don’t have twenty toothbrushes.” Isak pulled one out and threatened to shut the drawer on Even’s fingers. He pulled his hand back.

“Okay, why do you have a ridiculously large yet undefined number of toothbrushes? Is _that_ your thing?”

Isak shoved the toothbrush into Even’s chest hard enough to make him stumble. “Brush your fucking teeth.” He spun away and left the bathroom. Even watched Ophelia trail after Isak down the hall.

Even did as he was told though. He used Isak’s toothpaste and appreciated the generally fresh feeling he had when he was done. Instead of dropping the brush into the glass holding Isak’s own, he kept it tucked in his cheek. He ran his fingers through his still-wet hair then turned off the light and left. Back in the bedroom Isak was halfway through stripping the bed. The blankets and pillows were in a pile on the ground, the first time Even had seen anything resembling a mess in that apartment. Even leaned against the doorframe and stopped him right before he went for a corner of the fitted sheet. “Hey.” Isak straightened. Even grabbed the toothbrush and pretended to brush his teeth. “Is this turning you on?”

Isak’s head fell back in exasperation, but to Even’s absolute delight he started to get hard as well. Even pulled the toothbrush out of his mouth so he could laugh properly.

“I should’ve just sent you home.”

Even let his laugh fade as he approached the bed. “Aww, Isak, I’m just teasing. But your dick has excellent comedic timing.” Even reached down and gave it a light tug in appreciation. Isak leaned into the touch.

“That’s for you, not the toothbrush.”

“And this?” Even’s hand danced around Isak hip and grabbed a handful of his ass cheek. “Is this for me too?” He squeezed, and then his fingers danced into Isak’s crack. Another delight: it was still wet.

“Even….” Isak breathed heavily into Even’s shoulder. “We just showered.”

“Well now that I know how the handle works we can shower again.”

Isak lifted his head to witness Even’s flawless logic directly, then rolled his eyes right into a smile.

“Option whatever, part b: I’m going to make you come on your sheet, then we’ll put on clean ones, and then we’ll sleep.” Even curled the tip of his finger into Isak’s hole, the final point of his flawless logic, and Isak caved right into Even’s mouth. They kissed fast and sloppy, before Isak got impatient and pushed him to the closet. He climbed onto the bed on his knees while Even fetched a condom for himself.

Isak was nearly panting when he issued his final order. “Ophie, out.”

* * *

Ophelia gingerly hopped into bed around 5:30. Even awoke at the slight shift, but didn’t move. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her navigate their legs and find a space to wedge her body into. Somehow there was enough room at their waists, and Ophelia interrupted his plans to press into Isak’s side and hump him awake. Isak seemed to be used to this move from the dog, because he only mumbled unconsciously when Ophelia settled between them. Even wondered if dogs knew what boners were. She seemed to have a good sense of when they were going to have sex, giving them privacy whenever he came over. But maybe there was something else tipping her off. He tried to adjust himself without disturbing either of them. 

Even had worn Isak out enough to avoid further discussion of any plans. They had talked plenty about how big his dick was and how good it felt once he’d found the right angle from behind, but that was less a conversation and more just…yelling. Isak’s vocalizations were quite contagious, and got Even murmuring things he’d probably never said before during sex. But he liked how Isak responded to it. Isak was able to reassure Even that he wasn’t in pain, but that he actually wanted it harder and faster and there, there, there. Recalling that particular communication was not helping his morning wood situation though. He rolled onto his back, slowly.

He had about another thirty minutes before Isak would have another opportunity to demand a direction from him. He tried to savor the peace, except there wasn’t really any. He was already anticipating the questions, and trying to find the answer he wanted to give.

_I just want this._

He wanted to see Isak every day. He wanted to make him laugh and feel good. He wanted to come when he was called and leave when they were done. It had worked out so well, just like that, last weekend. He wanted to do it all over again, just like that. It was the perfect amount of excitement and satisfaction. He had missed it when Isak left for the holidays, so he prepared himself for its return, and then he’d been successful: he’d made Isak laugh and feel good.

_I just want this again and again and again._

Could he say that? Could he demand that they not stop what they were doing or start anything new? It had seemed like Isak was pushing for the next step, but whatever direction it was going to go in terrified Even. He wasn’t ready. It also terrified him to make those demands though, because he didn’t know how Isak would react.

“Don’t move. We can talk, but if you move she’ll jump.” Isak’s voice shocked Even, but luckily did not make him physically jerk away.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t know why. Maybe she thinks our voices are just the TV or something. Or she’s just waiting for a specific command. But as soon as you move she thinks she’ll be outside in under sixty seconds.”

“That’s a lot of pressure for six o’clock.”

Even could tell Isak suppressed a laugh. “It’s definitely a lifestyle choice.”

They were quiet. Even wondered if Isak had drifted back to sleep, since his voice had sounded like he hadn’t been completely awake. But maybe it had just been muffled by the dog between them. “Isak?” Even had an idea.

“Mmm.”

“Why _do_ you have so many toothbrushes?”

“Oh, that’s a cheap shot and you know it.”

“It’s only a cheap shot if you think I’m tricking you into an answer.”

“It’s a trick because you know I can’t smack you.”

It was Even’s turn to silence a chuckle. He heard Isak sigh.

“I have a lot of toothbrushes because I have a lot of guests. Or I used to. A long time ago I bought them in bulk because I didn’t want to have to keep buying them. And they were cheaper that way. So I got a whole bunch and never had to think of them again. I could always just pull out a fresh toothbrush for whoever needed it.”

“That’s….”

“Slutty, I know.”

“No, it…you are just a very good host. Anticipating people’s needs.” Even truly thought it was kind. But he also couldn’t resist the opportunity while Isak was still trapped. “A shit ton of people….”

“Fuck you.”

“Whenever, wherever, babe.”

Their tone shifted away from the joke once Isak picked up on the twisted response. “What time do you have to go to work?”

“Uh…I guess like, nine. No one is clocking me but that’s my routine.”

“Do you need to go back to your apartment?”

“Do you have…underwear and a shirt I can borrow?”

“Of course.”

“Then no.”

“Great. I’m going to walk the d-o-g and then we’ll have sex before you go.”

“Did you just spell out ‘dog’?”

Ophie jumped up.

“Even!”

“Shit.”

Ophie bolted to the end of the bed and was trying to make a play bow on top of their feet.

“Ugh, we had ten more minutes to go.” Now that they were freed from the trap, Isak had reached for his phone and checked the time. Even rolled onto his side.

“Could we make her wait?”

Ophelia barked.

“That’s a firm no.” Isak sat up, which made Ophelia’s tail go wild. She hopped down from the bed. She barked again until Isak was standing. Even watched him pull on his sweater, grab a pair of sweatpants from the closet, and pick up the second condom that Even hadn’t disposed of properly.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He chucked it into the tiny bin under his desk. “Be ready with a fresh one though, yeah?” Isak walked back to the bed and bent down to kiss Even’s chest. “See you in an hour.”

* * *

Even got his work done, but just barely. He signed off on storyboards that had come in right before Christmas and spread them out across his team, setting a schedule for their progress deadlines and making sure they would be manageable. He assigned the environment design to himself and Kirsti, because he wasn’t too interested in handling the characters for this game. He also liked how Kirsti managed her workflow and knew their styles would mesh well. This would be a good opportunity for her.

Aside from setting up this next project he didn’t dive into anything else significant. Every time his mind wandered it went to his butt, and the fact that he was wearing Isak’s underwear. His wrists were a distraction too, because Isak’s sweater ran a bit small on him and the cuffs didn’t quite reach his hands. He was so aware of his skin, his body, and it was both thrilling and unnerving. He’d left without having to answer to Isak, but that also meant he still didn’t know how to. He didn’t know how to want Isak, and he had a pair of underwear and a sweater constantly reminding him of that.

He went home after work. He showered and changed, and was about to start a load of laundry when he realized he didn’t know how to wash Isak’s clothes. He checked the label on the sweater.

_Do you dry clean your sweaters?_

_Just bring it back dirty. Underwear too._

_Smooth_

He had to give Isak points for that. Even had managed to leave without waking him up, thus avoiding making plans for another meeting, but Isak made sure he had a reason to return anyway. Not like Even wanted to stop seeing Isak; he just didn’t know how to handle the intention of seeing Isak. This was good though. Now he had an excuse.

Even tossed Isak’s clothes onto his bed and gathered enough of his own to fill a load. He shouldered the bag of clothes and went down to the basement. He went back upstairs while the machine ran, and joined Noora on the couch.

“You know what’s weird? I’ve forgotten what day it is.”

“Welcome to my brain. It’s Sunday, by the way.” He leaned over to the table where Noora had set a bowl of pretzels and grabbed a handful.

“Thanks.”

“When do you go back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe never. Maybe I’ll have a new career in watching Netflix. I’m on my fifth show.”

“Congratulations. Which one is this?”

“I’m…not sure. Eskild put it on before he left.”

Ah, Eskild. “I should go visit him. I feel like I haven’t seen him in years.” Even ran a hand through his hair.

“I know. The holidays are the worst. But you know he’s making so much money right now.”

“Do you want to go? We can go get food and say hi.” Noora was bundled up on the couch, with zero intentions of leaving until the new year, but Even did feel bad that he hadn’t seen Eskild in a while. Whenever Eskild was home he was sleeping, and then Even, if he wasn’t at the office, had spent a significant amount of time masturbating in his room. He needed to get out.

“I’d have to shower.” She tugged on a strand of hair.

“I can wait.”

Noora whined, then stuck a leg out from under the blanket, as if to test the waters.

“You can do it.”

She moved like molasses, slow and sticky, but eventually she peeled herself off the couch and threw down the blanket. “You’re paying.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Cash, not compliments.” Noora walked to her bedroom. “Actually, both. Give me both.”

“I’ll give you the world.”

Even finished his laundry while Noora got ready. They weren’t in a rush. Even put on jeans and a t-shirt, and combed back his hair. He knew he would be chastised by Eskild if he showed up in anything less, even though it was Sunday night. Noora put in a bit more effort, just to celebrate her break from the apartment. She emerged from her bedroom completely dressed.

“New shoes?”

“In addition to Netflix, I’ve also been shopping from the couch.” Noora showed off her blue wingtip oxfords, which happened to match the color of the fabric she’d been sitting on for the past five days.

“The wonders of the internet. Shall we?” Even followed her out of the apartment, shutting of lights as he went. They took the familiar route to Eskild’s restaurant, keeping their pace brisk as to not be out in the cold for too long.

Even though it was Sunday night, not many people had work the next day, so the restaurant wasn’t completely empty. Eskild was busy with some customers, but as soon as he noticed them hanging up their coats he sang out, “My babies!” They met him at the coveted, yet vacant, corner of the bar. “Oh, wait. Does this mean Netflix ran out of movies? Is that what got you up off of the couch?” His face wrinkled in exaggerated worry. “And you? Did Isak dump you? Is this going to be a group therapy session?”

“What?!” Noora and Even asked in unison, looking at each other. Then, again, at the same time:

“You’re dating Isak?”

“I’m not with Isak.”

Eskild calmly began mixing their usual drinks. “Well whenever you visit me it’s always to vent about boys, which I am not complaining about at all, I’m just saying that I’ve noticed a pattern, for both of you, and that is why I came to those conclusions. Noora’s boyfriend, Netflix, seems to have been less than satisfying if she’s run away to the bar. Same for you, Even.”

“No no no no, I’m not, we’re not—“

“Is that where you’ve been all those nights? With Isak?”

“Noora, if I didn’t already know that you are an amazing reporter, I would be absolutely devastated by your lack of investigative skills right now. Of course that’s where he’s been.” Eskild dropped a cherry into her Manhattan and set it in front of her. “I’ll give you a break because you didn’t watch me set my trap, but it makes complete sense.”

“Eskild—“

“Even!” She gave him a light slap. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been worried sick thinking you’re off doing…having….” She waved her hands about. “I don’t know, going through one of your phases.”

“No, he’s just having amazing sex. Or _was_ having.”

“Eskild.”

Eskild served him his rum and ginger beer. He also challenged Even with a look.

Even caved. “Yes, I’ve been hanging out with Isak.”

Eskild snorted. “Is that what the kids these days are calling it?”

“I don’t fucking _know_ what we’re calling it. I’m not calling it anything. He didn’t break up with me because we’re not dating.” Even turned to Noora. “And it’s not one of my phases. I’m sorry you were worried, but I’m fine. Just hanging out with a new friend.”

“Well that doesn’t quite explain why you’re here, but I’m glad we’re all caught up now. So, Noora, what brings you to my office?” Eskild glanced down the bar to see if anyone needed him before letting his focus return to them.

She shrugged. “Even suggested it. We haven’t seen you in a while. I was tired of eating pretzels. And he’s paying.”

“Ah. So, like me, you’re also excited to get him drunk and hear all of the details about his mysterious disappearances?”

Noora laughed. She held up her drink to toast Eskild’s accurate assumption. “That, and I have new shoes.”

“I _noticed_ , when you walked in! Showing off your ankles like the little minx you are. You should flash your ankles in that direction.” Eskild nodded to the opposite corner of the restaurant. “She seems your type.”

Noora did something with her hair that somehow granted her a subtle look at whoever Eskild was pointing out. Even sipped his drink, relieved the heat, Eskild’s very precise heat, was off of him. He was kind of upset that it was so obvious, both his affair and the fact that he was having a crisis about it, but it made sense, it was appropriate, that Eskild and Noora knew. They’re the ones who knew him best, and he’d never kept secrets from them. Except for the masturbating. They probably didn’t know that. But they knew him well enough to be able to help him through his relationships, offer good advice and comfort him through heartbreak. It hadn’t been necessary in a while, which might be why Noora was so unprepared for it, but Even was just as unprepared to share it.

To acknowledge it.

Because it wasn’t a relationship. It wasn’t anything. It didn’t have a name. He couldn’t have a problem with it if it didn’t exist.

Except he was sitting at Eskild’s bar, drinking, thinking about Isak. And it _was_ a problem.

Noora shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s just not a great time to start anything.”

“You’ve been saying that since 2016.”

“Well…it _still_ isn’t a good time!”

“”I’m not asking you to get married, Noora. I just think you could use a goddamn orgasm.”

“Say that a little louder, Eskild. I don’t think she heard you.” Noora gave him one of her death stares, and his hands went up in surrender.

“Fine, fine. Do you want hamburgers? I’ll put in an order.”

“And waffle fries please.”

Even almost laughed at how quickly Noora’s stare relaxed into a supplicating smile, pouring on the sugar to request her preferred side. Eskild left. Noora turned to him.

“What do you think?”

“Hmm?”

“Black hair, red sweater.” Another subtle nod to the corner.

“Oh. She’s fine. Fancy. But there’s a guy sitting with her now.”

“Yeah. I didn’t get a good look at him, but Eskild thinks they’re just brother and sister. Y’know, home for the holidays, escaping the parents for a night.”

“Ah, he managed to get the whole backstory.”

“It’s a slow night.” Noora winked. They sipped. Eskild had poured heavy, and Even was grateful. He knew he hadn’t been joking when he said he was trying to get him drunk, but it clearly didn’t matter anymore. They’d have all of the details within an hour, alcohol or not, simply because Even couldn’t think about anything else. So he might as well enjoy the buzz and how quickly it was settling in. 

“I’m…glad you’ve been hanging out with Isak.”

Even gave her a tight smile.

“I’m not going to pry. I can tell you don’t want to talk about it. I just…I’m relieved that you’re safe. I won’t nag you anymore when you don’t come home.”

Even nodded. “I should’ve just told you from the start, but I didn’t want to turn it into a thing. I don’t know what it is, or when I’ll see him next, if I will. It just happens when it happens.”

“That sounds chill!” Noora was excited, trying to compliment him. And, in theory, she was correct. It was chill. The sex was great. Isak was good at texting. Ophelia was cute, and he missed both of them while they were on their walk that morning. He slept well next to Isak, because of Isak.

It’s whatever was in his head that wasn’t chill. And maybe visiting Eskild would help shut it up. Even drank.


	15. Isak

“Are you drunk?”

Even’s mouth was sour with sugar. It clung to Isak’s for longer than usual, leaving them both gasping for breath. “Maybe.”

“Without me?” Isak pouted. He wasn’t sure if he’d seen Even this drunk. Maybe at the benefit. But then he’d just been nervous, not…silly. Even’s eyes were droopy and his smile a bit goofy now. He was struggling to take off his coat. Isak tugged on his sleeves to help him along.

“Do you drink?”

“Of course.”

Even shrugged. “Some people don’t.”

“That’s true.” Isak watched Even, amazed at how much he moved while still standing in place. Ophelia was tracking his arms as they waved about. “It looks like you had fun though. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“No. I was just with my roommates. We were at Eskild’s bar. But it’s okay, they told me to come. Let’s drink.” Even grabbed for Isak’s hand and dragged him to his kitchen.

“Do you want to get more drunk or sober up?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. I want whatever keeps me here.” Even held his palm up to his eye level.

“We could go back out. We don’t have work tomorrow.” Isak moved in close, almost pressing Even into the counter. He could smell the alcohol on his skin. As drunk as Even was, he still looked put-together, and could probably handle another bar. But before Isak could even understand how risky his proposal actually was, Even shut him down.

“I’m thiiiiiiis close to passing out. And I don’t think that’s why you invited me over.” Even leaned into Isak’s shoulder, and he felt how much weight Even wasn’t keeping on his feet. Maybe he couldn’t handle a bar.

“Water it is.” Isak propped Even back against the counter and moved around him to fill a glass at the sink. He was relieved to see Even took it willingly, okay with the shift to sobering up despite wanting to keep his buzz going. Isak had had his fair share of belligerent dates when the night went on too long, so this was a good sign. Even drained the glass and then leaned forward into Isak’s shoulder again. But he had a bit more intention this time, wrapping his hands around Isak’s waist in a full embrace.

“God you really have a thing for my neck.” Even had latched on, picking up where he’d left off that morning.

“It’s beautiful. Strong. Sensitive.” He complimented Isak’s neck between soft nips.

“Give me the glass before you drop it.” Isak felt the cold of the glass against his back. He reached behind him and they transferred it smoothly. Even kept nipping. “Let’s keep doing this but on the couch.”

“Great couch.”

Isak laughed and led him into the living room. He walked backward, slowly, within reach of Even but a nice teasing distance that kept him focused and moving. He stole a glance at Even’s crotch, to confirm what he’d been feeling along with his weight. He was hard, his cock snaking down his left leg, and Isak started salivating at the sight. He would’ve been embarrassed by his thirst, his inability to go a whole 24 hours without calling that cock back to him, except Even had arrived with his unpredictable speed, ready for duty. They were both thirsty.

With a gentle nudge Even dropped onto the couch. He immediately began unzipping his jeans, the discomfort apparent. Isak kept his sweatpants on. He nudged his way between Even’s knees and waited for him to notice his own bulge. Even shimmied his jeans off of his hips but couldn’t push them down any further, not with his legs spread by Isak. He tugged his dick and balls out of his underwear, free at last, and then sighed when he looked up. “Is that for me?” His hands slid up Isak’s thighs and cupped his dick, defining the bulge through the dark grey material.

“Open it and see.”

Even was leaning in, fingers moving up to his waistband, but Isak’s comment sent him falling against the back of the couch in giggles. “Isak! You make it sound like your dick has my name on it.” Even let go of Isak’s pants to cover his face with his hands. “Like the tag on a fucking Christmas present.”

“Eveeeeeen.” Isak had to laugh at how much Even was laughing. He had to laugh at the very complete picture Even had conjured from Isak’s attempt at seduction. He moved forward and kneeled on the couch, bringing his crotch closer to Even’s still-covered face. He gave him a moment to recover and return to the task, but it didn’t happen. Even’s giggles continued and Isak gave up. He dropped down onto Even’s thighs and waited him out in his lap. He kissed at his fingers and wrists.

“Now…now I’m imagining that your dick…is covered in one of the socks…you got for Christmas…” Even’s voice was high and faint as it struggled to come out between giggles and gasps. Isak growled. It was cute but frustrating. Isak noticed that both of their boners were fading. The giant dick that Even had been quick to whip out was shrinking down to simply extra-large.

Finally the laughter faded. Even let his head fall back against the couch and his hands fall to Isak’s thighs. He let out a sigh and massaged Isak’s quads. Isak just watched as his face finally relaxed. “I have never in my life worn a sock on my dick, but I have a feeling you have.” Isak tried to keep his voice low and calm to avoid starting up a fit again.

“Really? Not even to jack off?”

Isak shook his head. “Is that…does that elevate the experience?”

“Not really, but it keeps things tidy. Hand stays clean, and then you just pull it off when you’re done.”

“When I was younger I just cleaned up with tissues.”

“And now?”

“Now I find another man to clean up for me.”

“Okay _that_ is a little slutty.” Even ran his hands back to Isak’s ass and pulled him in closer. Isak picked up on the motion and started a slow grind in his lap.

“You’re a little drunk, I’m a little slutty. Potato potahto.”

“Mmm. Potatoes.”

Isak smiled and kissed Even. He propped his elbows on the back of the couch, on either side of Even’s head, and made out with him just like he used to kiss boys when he was younger. He powered past the taste and focused on the feel, the pull of their mouths and the push of their hips. Even’s lips were fat and slow, kissing Isak but also just waiting to be kissed by Isak. He worked Even’s dick back to attention with the friction of his pants. Maybe that’s what jacking off with a sock felt like, just fabric and pressure and a fantasy between his legs.

Even liked his ass. His hands would travel up his back, under his t-shirt, and grab at his shoulders, but they never stayed there for long. They settled on his butt, to squeeze and roll him harder into his crotch. Now that he was focused, Even kept up a good pace that had Isak panting; he broke kisses just to breathe.

“Even…you’re gonna make me come.”

“Yes.”

Isak shoved a hand between them. He needed direct contact now, he wanted to come touching him. Even moaned while Isak’s fingers scrambled free his dick from his sweatpants. Then he gasped.

“You’re so hot.” Literally, their dicks were hard and warm in Isak’s hand. He didn’t squeeze, just kept them in line, and he returned to their earlier tempo. “Fuck.”

“Wait for me.”

If Isak wanted to, he could concentrate on Even’s balls, and wait for that telltale rise when he was going to come. But he didn’t want to. He just kept going. He slid up and down Even’s length and felt the wetness at the tip and knew, even if he was drunk, that he wasn’t far behind. Their orgasms knew each other better than they did.

“I’m going to come. I’m gonna—“

“Isak.”

“I’m…”

“Isak, c—“

“Unnnnhh, fu—, ahhhh!”

“Is—“

Their cum sprayed everywhere. It hit their chins, stained Even’s shirt, dripped over Isak’s fingers. Everything burned. The pearly liquid almost stung, and their throats rasped with heavy breaths. Their cheeks flushed with the little blood left in their bodies that wasn’t pumping down to their dicks. Even tried to pull Isak’s hand off of their cocks, his involuntary grip becoming too much. “Isak.” Isak just groaned.

He let go and slumped forward, making Even take all of his weight. He inadvertently wiped his cum-covered hand on Even’s tee, but he was too blissed out to apologize for it. They stayed there and let their cocks soften and lungs recover and the buzz fade on its own terms.

Isak lifted his head enough to find Even’s mouth with his own. They were touching at every possible point, but Isak still craved a connection with the body beneath him. They were done, but he didn’t want it to be over. His hands moved to Even’s neck, sliding up to play with his hair and support the base of his skull. He held Even’s head there and subjected him to the kisses that stood in for the words he knew he couldn’t say.

* * *

Isak woke up without an alarm or a dog. When he realized this, he shot up in bed with fear; the last time this had happened Ophelia was guarding a puddle of vomit by the front door. He couldn’t see her in his room, so he jumped to his feet. He checked under his bed first. No dog, no vomit.

Isak found her in the living room, curled up on the couch behind Even’s knees. Her head was resting on his butt, and her tail twitched when she saw Isak. “Ophelia, come.” He didn’t get too close, not wanting to disturb Even with his presence. He whispered his command but she didn’t move. “Ophelia, walk.” She didn’t look ill, but she still didn’t move. Something was wrong, because that was an infallible command. “Walk.” Nothing.

He glanced around the couch to check for any vomit. He prayed she hadn’t made a mess _on_ Even, but he couldn’t rule it out just then. Isak returned to his bedroom to get dressed. Maybe she would need to see him in actual clothes to believe that they were going for a walk.

It was nearly seven, an hour after her usual alarm. Isak didn’t know how worried he was supposed to be. Surely she needed to pee, desperately, so there must have been a reason why she was glued to the couch, or to Even. As he pulled on a sweatshirt it occurred to him that maybe Even was the one in trouble. Maybe she was guarding _his_ vomit. He tiptoed back to the living room and walked to the back of the couch. Even’s face was pressed into it, his mouth slightly open and his breath condensing on the leather cushion, but there wasn’t any vomit. He was breathing. His eyelids were twitching with a dream. He looked warm enough under the blanket Isak had draped over him the night before, even without his t-shirt.

Isak tried again. “Ophelia, walk.” No one moved.

Isak went to the hallway and got her leash and his coat. Sometimes that was enough, the jingle of the latch, to get her to the door. But she was still curled up when he went back to the living room. He hooked up her collar and tugged. “Walk.” She put up some resistance, but she unfolded her legs and stepped down from the couch. Her movements were slow enough to not disturb Even and they quietly walked to the door. He shoved his feet into boots, checked his pocket for his keys and phone, and then they escaped.

Ophelia made a miraculous recovery as soon as they hit the sidewalk. Her tail shot up, ears shot forward, and she was squatting at the first available tree. Isak was grateful she hadn’t made a mess inside, but the change in behavior concerned him. He kept a closer eye on her while they took their usual route. As the cold air woke him up his senses sharpened, and he took in the details of this new kind of morning.

Once they reached the park and Ophelia’s pace slowed, Isak pulled out his phone. _Borrow some clean clothes and we’ll go to breakfast._ He let himself get excited about the prospect of a work-free day with Even, a proper weekend. There was the very strong possibility that Even would just need to spend the day on the couch recovering, but that would be nice as well. They could just hang out.

Ophelia stopped to meet new dogs along the path. They were missing their usual friends because of the time change, but this was refreshing. There were more dogs, more sleep-deprived owners, and a bit more of a bustle at the park. A small group was off-leash and playing a game of fetch with a tennis ball. Ophelia strained at her leash. “I’d let you join if I didn’t think you would steal the ball and follow someone else home.” Isak had made that mistake once and only once.

He was tempted to stop at a café on the way back and pick up coffee. He didn’t know if Even drank it, but just about anyone their age who had spent the night on a couch would probably need it. He’d also had a cup that one time at the museum, so Isak knew he at least drank something. But as they got closer to his apartment, Ophelia was pulling him hard. With a drive like that he wouldn’t be able to tie her up outside anywhere without her putting up a fuss. She wanted to get home, and he didn’t blame her. She needed breakfast, he needed Even. Maybe Even would be able to help him navigate that fancy espresso machine that his mom had gotten him three Christmases ago. They jogged back to the building and then raced each other up the stairs to the apartment.

Isak couldn’t help but smile when he walked in and called out. “Even?” It was such a pleasant thing to do, to be able to come home to a guy. His guests, if they’d managed to sleep over, were usually gone by the time Isak returned with Ophelia, but Even was still there yesterday morning and Isak was excited for a repeat appearance of Even and his bed head. He would be grumpy, which meant he would be cute.

Ophelia shot off as soon as Isak unhooked her, and he listened to her nails scramble through each room while he kicked off his boots and hung up his coat. But then Ophelia came back to him and nudged his thigh with a whine. “I know, I know. Go to the kitchen, we’ll get food.”

Isak detoured to the living room on the way, but Even wasn’t there. He didn’t think much of it though. He could be in the bathroom, or back in his bed, having realized he didn’t need to suffer on Isak’s couch. That was one of the upsides to Ophelia’s walks: it gave Isak’s guests a chance to make themselves more comfortable, whether that meant a shower, a drink, or a silent escape. Isak joined Ophelia in the kitchen and scooped out her breakfast. He fixed a fresh glass of water and popped two paracetamol out of their blister pack. This would probably be more valuable than caffeine. He carried both to his bedroom.

But Even wasn’t there. His bed was untouched. Even’s shirt was still in his hamper, but it didn’t look like any clean clothes had been removed. Isak set down the water and pills on the bedside table. He went to the bathroom, but it was empty too. He cycled back through his apartment to double check. No Even.

Before Isak let himself be disappointed by his disappearance, he went back to the front hall. In his excitement he’d forgotten his phone in his coat pocket. Maybe he’d missed a reply.

He had.

_I can’t do this._

* * *

It didn’t make any sense. Isak read his original text, then Even’s response, and it sounded silly. He can’t do breakfast? Or borrow his clothes? He’d done that yesterday. Isak carried his phone into the living room and sat on the couch. The blanket he’d covered Even with was folded neatly over the arm. Isak twisted around to check for vomit again, but that was silly too. Who would fold a blanket but leave behind vomit? Well, maybe his own, much younger self, leaving a friend’s house still drunk. But that had nothing to do with the problem on his phone. He stared at the message, then finally figured out something to send back.

_Did you leave without a shirt?_


	16. Isak

Isak had to go back to the museum on Tuesday. It was still closed, but he had to oversee the removal of Cupid and the Goddesses in the morning. He got dressed in his usual suit but swapped out his button up shirt for a turtleneck to hide Even’s marks. They were starting to fade, but not fast enough for a professional environment. He added a scarf for extra coverage, ready to blame it all on the cold.

He stopped at the coffee shop a few blocks from the museum. The barista recognized him and acknowledged his unspoken order with a nod. He had a steaming cup of coffee ready to go thirty seconds later, before he could even swipe his card. “Thanks guys.” Isak raised the cup in salute as he left.

Muscle memory led Isak to the front steps of the museum. He managed to remember that the front door would be locked before he started his climb, and he backtracked to the service entrance at the side of the building. Despite it being the official employee entrance, it was never used whenever the museum was open because it was a longer walk to their offices. He unlocked the door with his keycard and followed the basement maze to his desk.

“Hi Isak.”

Isak nearly dropped his coffee when Kim’s head popped over the wall of her cubicle. “Jesus! Kim. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m studying slash cleaning out my inbox slash watching makeup tutorials on Youtube.”

He furrowed his brow. “Wouldn’t that be more comfortable to do at home?”

She gave him a shrug. “Yeah, but I was hoping being here would help me concentrate. More studying, less Youtube.”

“How is that working out for you?”

“I just ordered some new eyeliner, so….”

Isak laughed. “Well, ignore me. I’m just here for the move then I’m going to leave. Back to your eyeliner, then.” Another cup salute.

Isak went into is office and began unwrapping himself from the cold. He left his scarf on. He debated not bothering to turn on his computer, since he was only there for one task and he knew what it entailed. He wasn’t interested in acknowledging the to-do list he’d left behind before Christmas, not when he was still technically on vacation. Unfortunately that meant he didn’t have anything else to occupy his mind, and Even came back to set up camp.

“Kim?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I get your opinion on something?” The office was empty so Isak could hear as her chair rolled and boots shuffled over to his office. He was glad to see she wasn’t dressed up for her visit, that she wasn’t actually cutting into her vacation time to present herself as an employee. This also made it easier for him to ask her about a personal matter.

“What’s up, doc?” She asked as she dropped into the chair across from him. When she noticed his blank expression she clarified. “Bugs Bunny?”

“Ah, sure.” Isak cleared his throat. “Do…um, do you text?”

It was her turn to furrow her brow. “This feels like a trick question. But yes, I do…text.”

“Sorry, that was stupid. I mean, I’ve been texting someone, but it hasn’t been going great, and I just wanted to get your opinion on what he’s saying. Maybe I’m reading it wrong.”

Isak flicked open his phone to the same screen he’d been staring at for the past 24 hours. He turned it over to Kim with a silent prayer that she didn’t scroll up. She was one swipe away from his request to fuck, though he supposed it could be inferred even without the explicit wording. She held the phone gingerly though, at the edges, respecting his privacy.

“This is Even from…?”

“Yes.”

_Borrow some clean clothes and we’ll go to breakfast._

_I can’t do this._

_Did you leave without a shirt?_

_Dinner tonight?_

_Hope you got home safely. Text me when you can._

“When was this?”

“He texted me yesterday morning, after he’d left my apartment. He was still sleeping while I was walking Ophelia, so I sent him that. And then when I got back he was gone.”

“And this is it? No other messages anywhere else?”

He hadn’t thought about it, but he didn’t remember any notifications from Instagram. Isak shook his head.

“Um. I don’t mean to pry, but did anything happen the other night that might have prompted this? Was he upset?”

“I don’t think so. That’s why I’m confused.”

“Well….” Kim placed his phone on the desk, letting the screen go dark. “I think it’s still a little early, but the text was kind of…not final, but…done. He’s not bothering to explain himself, or contact you. I think you’re being ghosted.”

It was not a shock to hear this ruling from Kim. He’d suspected it himself, but still wanted someone else to confirm it. He was used to text conversations dwindling to nothing, to hook-ups being cut off. Some guys entered his phone and left within a day, so this kind of exchange wasn’t new. But it still felt too abrupt. It didn’t match up with what had been happening in person. Even had stayed. Even had come back. Kim had been right, but she couldn’t explain why it still felt wrong. For what felt like the thousandth time, he tried to brush it off. “So it wasn’t just about breakfast.”

Kim offered a small chuckle for his joke. “Unless he really hates breakfast, probably not. Sorry, Isak.”

They both stared at the phone.

“Do you think…should I text him again? Maybe make that joke: Not a fan of breakfast?” He mimed typing it out with his thumbs.

“Sure, if you want. I wouldn’t expect an answer, but if you want to get some sort of response from him, a joke might work.” He could hear the false hope in her voice, the attempt to placate his desperation.

“Well of course…” Isak’s voice went soft. “I want him to respond. I want to know what he meant. If we’re done.”

Kim shrugged. “Sometimes that’s how guys do it. You’re done because he’s done. I personally believe in closure, but ghosting is pretty effective for the...ghost.”

“Leaving me to dissect his text, or lack there-of, with my curatorial assistant. No offense.” He’d let a bit of edge into his tone, which he regretted. But he _was_ frustrated.

“No, I understand. I do the same thing, but it’s usually with my girlfriends at a bar, or in a group chat. It’s like brainstorming how many ways a guy can be an asshole. Pretty therapeutic actually.”

Isak wasn’t quite ready to call Even an asshole. Maybe in a couple of days, or after a drink or two. Maybe if he sent another text and there still wasn’t a response.

“If you want, I could text Noora and see if she knows anything? Maybe there’s a whole different explanation that we’re missing. Maybe he really just couldn’t do breakfast, and then…someone stole his phone.”

He waved that option away. “No no, I don’t want to involve any more people in this. I shouldn’t have come to you with my…boy troubles anyway. In fact, if I ever try to whine about this again, tell me to stop.”

“You know I’m not actually going to do that. And if he does ever respond, you’re going to email me immediately.” Kim stood up, as if she were the boss now, delegating tasks and ending the meeting. Isak laughed.

“Thanks, Kim, for your insight.”

His phone screen lit up just then, and they both leaned in to see if it was a long-overdue reply. But it was just a calendar notification for the moving crew. “Shit, I need to be upstairs.”

“Thorvaldsen?”

“Yup.” He grabbed his phone and coffee and followed Kim out of his office.

“Say goodbye to Cupid for me.” She turned to her cubicle and Isak strode past to the hallway. Right before he turned the corner he lifted his arm in a final, grand salute, and laid on the thickest accent he could muster.

“Au revoir l’amour!”

* * *

Cupid began his journey back to Denmark without a hitch. The plinths returned to storage, and Isak collected the labels. Normally he would just throw them out, but he held onto them as he descended to the basement and carried them all the way to his desk. He dropped them on his to-do list, to be dealt with at another time.

Kim’s head was hunched over a textbook, so he didn’t interrupt her when he left. He slipped back out into the cold. On the bus ride home he checked his phone for a reply. When there wasn’t a text or a message on Instagram, not even a new photo to obsess over, Isak turned off his phone completely.

At home he cleaned. He’d been lazy the day before, spending most of it in bed with his phone, waiting. But now that he was wearing proper clothes he felt like he should _do_ things in them. He vacuumed, then played a game of tug-of-war with Ophelia to make up for the vacuum. He scrubbed down the bathroom and laughed at his toothbrushes. He hadn’t thought how weird that full drawer looked until Even had pointed it out, and none of his other guests had ever brought it up. He wanted to turn on his phone and send Even a toothbrush emoji.

Instead he dragged his hamper downstairs to do laundry. His building had a nice little seating area by the machines, so he sorted his clothes and settled in for the wait. He lasted about five minutes before having to turn on his phone, but considering the environment he thought it was a pretty impressive holdout. He thought about sending another text, now that most of the day had passed. He felt like he’d proven that he’d gone the day without constantly thinking about Even, trying to contact him, even though he hadn’t. Maybe he could try another joke. _So if not breakfast or dinner, how about lunch?_

He drafted some clever options in his notes app, and that got him through the first wash cycle. He didn’t send anything, because the longer he held out the better, but also because after twenty minutes the jokes felt like they weren’t going to actually do anything. With every minute that passed the situation felt more and more dire, his frustration building, and a joke, no matter how clever, felt like he was lying. He still had the desire to be honest with Even, that he owed Even that, and he thought that was the only way he would receive honesty in return. Joke for joke, truth for truth. _I miss you._

Isak tossed his phone aside while he moved his clothes. He pulled each piece out of the washer and checked it for damage; he had a history of losing good clothes to a rough cycle, and this was the only precaution against a completely dry-clean-only wardrobe. Some shirts and pants would be hang dried back upstairs, the rest sent off to tumble. He had to pause when he realized one of the shirts was Even’s tee. Luckily he’d used a cold water cycle, but he checked it for remaining stains anyway. Then he lumped it with the clothes going upstairs. He wasn’t going to risk anything with the dryer, especially since Even’s long torso couldn’t handle any shrinkage.

As he ran upstairs with the wet clothes, he thought of a new angle for his text. Instead of a joke he would demand a trade, and he could keep the emotions he was avoiding out of it completely. Isak hung up the shirts and pants, then flung himself onto his bed with his phone. Ophelia joined him, thinking it was a game. “Alright Oph. The ball is in his court but I’m about to steal it back.” Isak googled Even’s name and found his animation portfolio. It hadn’t been updated in a couple of years, but his agency was still listed. He confirmed the office address. Then he returned to his texts.

_I washed your shirt. Please bring my sweater to your office tomorrow and I’ll stop by to trade._

He was tempted to follow-up the flat text with something clever, in case he came off as too harsh. But when he scrolled through the emoji keyboard he found out that a toothbrush doesn’t exist.

* * *

Isak had thought it was a smart move. He didn’t tell Even when he was stopping by, in case Even wanted to avoid him further by stepping out at a certain time. It was a trap. But because he hadn’t committed to anything specific, Isak was now at the mercy of his own indecision. He was trapped in his own apartment while he waited, and it was not as relaxing as his vacation was supposed to be. Ophelia paced the hallway with him.

Even hadn’t replied, but Isak hadn’t expected him to at this point. Isak tried to imagine how his day was going, if he’d arrived at the office on time, what kind of work he did, if he went out for lunch or brought food from home. Did he use his phone at work, or did he hide it in a desk drawer so he could focus too? It hadn’t been that long since he started texting Even, getting a feel for the speed of his replies, though now that they weren’t coming in at all it didn’t seem to matter. Isak finally gave up on the theorizing and pulled on his coat around 11. He had folded Even’s shirt nicely and tucked it into a new museum tote bag. He always had a few on hand for promotional opportunities, or in this case, to leave behind a lasting reminder of the guy he’d ghosted. Every time Even used it to buy groceries he’d think of Isak. It was his one vengeful indulgence: he would ghost Even right back. “Wish me luck, Ophie.” She walked away.

For all of Isak’s scheming, he hadn’t thought about what to do if he couldn’t actually get into Even’s office building. He found the correct buzzer for the agency, but no one was answering. Perhaps the agency was closed, just like the museum, and the door would stay locked unless Even happened to leave. Or if he could hear the buzzer and let him in, he might simply choose not to. He felt dumb standing out in the cold, foiled so early on in his plan. He buzzed again. He checked his phone. He thought about buzzing a different office in case there was a sympathetic soul somewhere else in the building.

But then the door clicked. Isak lunged for it, jamming his knuckles against the handle. He ran inside, rushing in case his luck was about to run out. He took the stairs to the third floor and was relieved to find that the agency occupied the whole space, so there weren’t other offices to navigate around. He zipped into the reception area and took the first hallway he fou—

“Hi.”

Isak yelped. “Fuck! Even. Shit.” He felt like he’d been punched, the wind knocked out of him with a hello.

“Sorry.”

Isak gulped to catch his breath. He held up a hand. “No, It’s fine. I thought I would have to chase you down. Didn’t think you’d make it this easy.” He could tell Even was biting back another apology. He already looked so guilty that Isak didn’t think there was a point to him yelling about the ghosting. He knew what he’d done, and felt bad enough about it to show up for the punishment. That seemed like punishment enough. Isak slid the tote bag from his shoulder and held it out. “Your t-shirt.”

Even took it. “I left your clothes at my desk.” He waved for Isak to follow him.

The agency looked…fun. It looked more like a recreation center, a teenager’s bedroom, than an office. The walls were painted in deep jewel tones, but there was still plenty of light streaming in through tall windows, warming the wood floors.There were groupings of tables with workstations on them, elaborate screen setups and hardware beyond the usual keyboard and mouse. But there were also lounge areas and gaming chairs positioned around large televisions. He could see multiple kitchenettes at one point. He almost forgot he was in an office, but then he saw a standard conference room, and then a row of more private, personal spaces. Even led him into one of these.

“Are all of these yours?” Isak gestured to the desk, which was a giant triangle with three different computers on each edge.

“No. Or, yes. I use this one, and then when my team needs to work with me they come in and use these.” As Even explained, it became more clear that one side of the desk was more permanent. It had drawers below it and figurines scattered about, a cup of matching pencils, an open sketchpad, touches of Even claiming the space. He pulled out his chair and sat, then bent down to one of the drawers.

Isak turned away to look at the rest of the office. The walls were covered in posters, and Isak assumed they were stills from video games, but wasn’t sure. They could be anything, really. There was no uniform style or little labels to give him hints. Nothing was signed. Even also had a ridiculously large television above shallow shelves that glowed with multiple gaming consoles. There was a miniature fridge in the corner, and he was tempted to open it like you open a medicine cabinet at someone else’s house. He wanted to know Even’s secrets without having to ask him.

“Here.” Even was behind him, holding out his sweater. “The underwear is um, folded inside.”

Isak turned to face him. “Why?” He blurted it out. He couldn’t hold it in, especially now that he was standing in front of him.

“I…forgot a bag, and didn’t want people seeing your underwear?”

“No. Why can’t you do this? Your text.”

Even’s spine went straight as he recoiled from Isak’s question. His mouth popped open, but nothing came out.

In his desperation for an answer, Isak tried different questions. “Okay, back up. What is ‘this’? You can’t wear my clothes?” He swiped his sweater from Even’s hand. “You can’t eat breakfast with me? Or is it something else that I’m not aware of? You can’t…get drunk? Sleep at my apartment?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“All of that. I can’t…I can’t be in a relationship with you.”

It was Isak’s turn to let his mouth fall open. He wasn’t ready for _that_ answer. “Wh…why?”

“It’s not you, it’s just me.” Once he said that, something in Even snapped. His shoulders fell and words rushed out. “I know that sounds like a line from a movie but it’s true. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re wonderful. I just can’t be in a relationship. I can’t do breakfast, or lunch or dinner. I can’t do a relationship, but it’s clearly what you want, so I had to just cut it off before I disappointed you or hurt you, or made you think I could do something that I can’t.”

Isak said the first thing that came to mind. “Bullshit. If you didn’t want to disappoint me or hurt me you’d fucking answer my texts.” He regretted it as soon as he spit it out. He regretted what he said and he regretted making Even’s face do what it did. He was still standing, frozen, but Isak could tell he had collapsed. “I’m sorry.”

“Isak—“

“At least we’re even now.”

Even dropped his eyes to the floor.

Isak should have stormed out. He had his clothes, he had delivered his comeback, he should’ve brushed past him one last time and considered that closure. But he just stood there. He stayed.

He tried to think of something else, something to lift Even’s gaze. Maybe a joke.

“All we do is apologize to each other. I don’t think either of us can do a relationship.”

Even nodded but kept his eyes lowered.

Maybe an actually funny joke. Come on, Isak. “How…how’d the underwear work out for you?” Shit.

Even looked up, completely confused. Isak didn’t want to make his face look like that either. He sighed. “Look, Even. I don’t do relationships either. I have hook-ups and flings and I buy toothbrushes in bulk. I find men who I like, and I enjoy the time I spend with them. And I like you. I like sleeping with you. I don’t want to assume, but it seemed like you like me too.”

“I do.” It was the softest thing Isak had ever heard. He felt hope bloom in his chest.

“Do you think that’s something you could do…with me? I promise, no breakfast. We could just be single, in the same bed. On the couch.” The hope gave him confidence. He stepped closer to Even and reached for his hand. Isak looped a couple of fingers around his, and they linked up loosely between them. “I’m also just a boy, standing in front of another boy, telling him how horny he is.”

Even gasped, he choked. And then Isak realized he was trying not to laugh.

“Go ahead, laugh. I know it’s stupid but it’s true.”

Even’s face broke out into a proper smile. Hope kept blooming. Then Even pulled back his hand from Isak’s and held a finger up to his lips.

Isak was quiet, still. Even walked back to his desk and picked up his sketchpad. The pencils clinked in the cup when he plucked one out. He returned to Isak and held up his finger again. Isak nodded. Then he watched while Even wrote.

Even flipped the pad around:   
_But for now let me say,_

He flipped it back, turned the page, wrote some more:  
 _without hope or agenda,_

Flip, turn:  
 _just because it's Christmas—_

Isak took in a sharp breath when he realized what Even was referencing. He held it in, trapping his hope, not sure if he could expect what the cue cards were supposed to say.

_(and at Christmas you tell the truth)_

Even took a little longer with the next one, pausing and editing it before he flipped it back for the reveal:  
 _to me, you are the perfect fuck_

Isak snatched the pad out of his hands, dropping his clothes in the process. “Fuck you.”

“I wasn’t done!”

“Oh, _now_ you want to write to me? Sorry, you lost your chance.” Isak tore out the page, the final strike in his taunting. It fluttered to the ground on top of his sweater. He pressed the pad into Even’s chest with a little extra force, and Even caught it right before it fell. Neither of them could hold back their laughter now.

He didn’t realize how heavy his heart had gotten, not being able to see Even laugh, or smile. But now it was the lightest thing in the world. He felt like he was floating when he moved closer to Even. The gravity that made the sketchpad and pencil finally slip from Even’s hands did not apply to the rest of their bodies. Something else entirely pulled them in and let their smiles melt into a searing kiss.

Even apologized one more time, a soft “sorry” whispered against Isak’s cheek.

Isak leaned back so he could look at Even. He kept a light grip on his hair at the back of his neck. “Come over after work. Make it up to me.”

Even accepted his punishment with a small nod and a smile.


	17. Even

“Open a new one. The first one fell under the bed so I threw it out.” Isak pulled open the drawer right before leaving the bathroom. Even brushed his teeth in peace.

It was easier, going over to Isak’s last night, now that they agreed on what they were doing together. He didn’t feel a looming weight over them whenever he looked Isak in the eye and felt the intensity of his desire. Since Isak had told him what he wanted, he didn’t let his mind twist that desire into anxiety. He was just horny, and Even could handle that. He was horny too.

He kept apologizing, with his body. He didn’t mean to hurt Isak; it had just seemed like the best way to end their relationship before it actually became one. They didn’t talk about it further once they were in bed, but Even could feel the distrust he’d sown, how Isak held back ever so slightly. So he brought him to orgasm steadily throughout the night to reassure him. When they slept he gave Isak his body for that as well.

They showered around 10. They were too tired to play under the water, but they washed each other’s hair and rinsed away the various fluids from the night before. Isak asked him what he was doing for the new year. Even told him about the party at Eskild’s bar. He felt compelled to invite Isak to it, even though he didn’t want to. Luckily Isak told him about his own party, the modern art gallery down by the harbor, relieving him of the pressure to turn it into a date. Their conversation turned into a casual discussion about art and what Isak had studied for his doctorate, and how that set him on a path toward the museum instead of a gallery. He watched Isak indulge in a skincare routine that he hadn’t seen before, and they both tugged at their wrinkles in the mirror.

“I think they’ve gotten worse since I’ve met you.”

“Worse?” Even pretended Isak accused him of murder. He readied his defenses. “Wait. Stop smiling.” Isak’s face dropped. “Okay now smile.”

“Wrinkle city.”

“Now stop. See? They go away when you’re not smiling. Technically, they’re not wrinkles, they’re laugh lines.” Even beamed.

Isak made an exaggerated quarter turn to look at him directly. He raised his eyebrows very slowly, which Even didn’t think was possible. “Technically, that was the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

Even knew Isak was joking. He could recognize this particular serious front he would put up at the beginning of the mockeries he made. Isak liked to go extreme. But it still sent a weird thrill through Even, as if Isak was threatening him with the truth. It made him want to egg him on, see how far he could go. Even lifted a finger and ran it, slowly, across Isak’s forehead, where a wrinkle had appeared with the raising of his eyebrows. Isak’s eyes went wide at Even’s audacity. “Now let’s not make this any deeper.”

Isak snatched Even’s wrist and wrenched it away from his face. “You have some fucking balls on you, man,” he muttered. But he was muttering more because he was trying to repress a smile, tightening his mouth because he _couldn't_ stay mad.

“The ones you like to suck on?”

“God!” Isak cast Even’s arm away and walked around him. “You’re so good at making me regret the last 24 hours.”

“They say I’m the best. Wait, can I borrow toothbrush?”

* * *

Even went home, grabbing a bun and tea on the way for a late, light breakfast. He had to catch Eskild before he left for work, so he could run his outfit past him for approval. Well, he had to figure out what he was wearing first, and then catch Eskild. He’d been burned before, showing up to one of Eskild’s parties in a disappointing outfit, and he suffered through watered-down cocktails the entire night no matter how much he tipped.

He was surprised to see Eskild still in his robe, on the couch with Noora. He thought he might miss him, but at this stage it would take him another hour at least before he left. “You’re home?” He stood in the entrance to the living room while he took off his coat.

Eskild whipped around. “ _You're_ home. Finally!”

“Were you waiting for me?” Even fumbled the tote bag in his hands, nervous that he’d done something wrong.

“No, I was risking showing up to my job late and without my full face just for kicks. Come, come. You need to explain what ‘staying out see you tomorrow means.’” Eskild held up his phone, presenting Even with the text he’d sent him after work yesterday.

Even rolled his eyes. “It means the same thing as when you send it to me.” He disappeared to hang up his coat but returned before Eskild’s voice got too loud.

“Okay then, just like when I send it you can come sit right here between Noora and me and tell me how Blond Hair Black Suit Insane Jawline is.”

Noora tugged on the blanket to make room for Even to sit.

“He has a name.”

“You know I’m no good with names.”

Even dropped down onto the couch between them. He tossed the bag onto the coffee table. He looked at Noora. “Are you coming tonight?”

“Of course. This is my formal couch blanket. Couldn’t you tell?” She fluttered the warm cover about like it was the skirt of a ball gown.

“Both of you are changing but not until I get an update.”

Even didn’t want to give one, not after putting on an embarrassing show of going home without a shirt and trying to explain to Noora what he did without crying. Talk about wrinkle-inducing moments. Noora had listened and gotten him a sweatshirt to put on and nodded as if she understood, as if it all made sense that he would simply stop talking to Isak when he did nothing wrong. He’d sat on that couch and convinced himself that it was for the best and Noora didn’t call him out for how stupid he was being. “It remains nothing. It just…happened.”

“Wait,” Noora pressed a hand against Even’s forearm. “Is Blond Hair Black Whatever—“

“Black Suit Insane Jawline,” Eskild corrected her.

“Is that Isak? You went back to Isak?”

“Noora, please, keep up.”

“Excuse me, I thought I _was_ keeping up. I thought whatever was happening with Isak was done! We had that whole conversation about it.”

“What?!” Eskild had leaned forward, and now he and Noora were talking across Even. “He broke up with him?”

“I di—“

“Well you know, not a break up because they weren’t ‘together’ but yeah he stopped seeing him a few days ago.”

Eskild pressed a hand against Even’s forearm, but this one came with enough speed and force to count as a slap. “And you have the nerve to sit on _my_ couch, dick freshly sucked, acting like you have nothing to say?” Another slap.

“Eskild.” Noora reached across Even to pat Eskild’s knee and calm him down. “Let him talk, if he wants to.”

Even waited a beat, to be sure they were done speaking, and to be able to explain himself clearly. He didn’t want to have to do this again. “I did try to stop seeing Isak. I told him I couldn’t do…whatever we were doing anymore, because I didn’t want to be in a relationship with him. Well, I didn’t really tell him. I just stopped answering him when he texted me.”

Eskild nodded as if he were all too familiar with that move.

“But I still had some of his clothes, and he had one of my t-shirts, so we had to meet up to exchange them.”

“Did you meet up in his bed?”

“He came to my office. He lives really close. We talked a little bit when he came over and…figured stuff out. He doesn’t want a relationship either, so we can just go back to hanging out. I went over after work to…hang out.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Hmm?” Noora’s soft concern was almost a shock after Eskild’s crude prodding.

“Is that what you actually want, to keep hanging out?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. It’s nice. I was just getting overwhelmed with all of the ways I could fuck it up.”

Eskild stood up. “So, naturally, you chose just one of those ways and knocked it out of the park.” He probably intended to swing like he was hitting a baseball but Eskild’s arms dipped low like he was golfing. It hardly mattered though, because his point had been made. He, like Isak, had shown him how backwards his reasoning was. He hated that he couldn’t see it for himself.

Eskild strode to his room. Now that he had his update, he had to actually get ready for work. Even stood. “Is there anything specific I should wear for tonight?” Eskild twirled at his door. “Is there a theme?”

“It’s the same theme as every year. Glitter,” Noora muttered.

Eskild just pointed to her and disappeared.

“Technically the theme is ‘New Year New Beer’ and they’re introducing all new taps but that was too heterosexual for Eskild.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. That’s what he’d been complaining about for approximately an hour while we waited for you to come home. But he just decided to stick to his wine and cocktails and bring in his personal supply of glitter to make up for it.”

“Okay, so I need something that goes with glitter.”

“I’m wearing my sequin mini. I figure if I’m already sparkly, he’ll have less incentive to shower me with more.”

“Well I guess I can’t wear _my_ sequin mini then.” Noora laughed. “But that’s some excellent logic that I’m sure he will not ignore.”

“I know. You would think I would know not to apply logic to Eskild at all. I remain hopeful though. Do you need the bathroom?”

“No, I showered at Isak’s.”

“Okay. When do you want to go over? 21?”

“Sounds good.” Even went to his room. Noora resumed whatever she’d been watching on Netflix before Eskild took over the couch. He pulled his tuxedo from the hook behind his door, thinking he could give it one last spin for the year, if it was still presentable. He checked the pants and jacket for stains or holes, then searched for a dress shirt he could iron some life back into.

Eskild left before them, in his usual all-black ensemble. But he had a full face on, with glitter already dusting his cheekbones. He had helped Noora with her make-up and advised Even against any kind of tie. “Open neck, like you’ve just come for a far superior party and are gracing us with your presence.” Then he was off to start everyone else’s night. Noora and Even ate pizza on the couch and layered themselves with paper towels to avoid grease stains.

“I think we did this out of order.”

“Yeah, pizza and sequins don’t usually mix until after you’re really drunk.” But then Noora shrugged and kept eating. They finished up and left on time, ready to put the year behind them.

* * *

The restaurant was just finishing up dinner service when they arrived. The bar was packed but Eskild had reserved them a small two-top in the corner, in exchange for not being waited on. They had seats, but they also had to order and bus their own drinks from the bar. This prompted a game of “Would You Rather” that kept them entertained at the start. “I’d rather sit here out of the way than have some dude hovering over my shoulder the whole night.” The end of the year wasn’t going to get exciting until the last few seconds anyway.

Even fetched their next round. “Would you rather live on your own and never be able to have overnight guests, or live with roommates who never left?” He’d switched to beer.

“Can I go to other people’s homes?”

“Yes, but never stay overnight. And money isn’t a factor; you can afford either location comfortably.”

“Right now I would choose roommates.” Noora reached out and patted the hand he was resting on the table. “I’d get lonely otherwise.”

“I want to believe you, but as your roommate, I remain wary.”

“No, I really would! It gets lonely when you’re both working. And I know even when we’re chilling it’s still just…silent. But it’s nice having another human nearby. I also think I have a weird threshold for companionship too. Like, could you imagine going from full Eskild to no Eskild at all?”

“Uh, _yes_ , that’s why I stay over Isak’s.”

Noora squinted at him, suspicious of the hint of truth in Even’s joke. Then they both looked to the bar, to watch Eskild at the center of his circus. He was upselling like a professional, passing off patrons only interested in beer to the other bartender and selling mixed drinks with an extra dose of attention. He was turning people with just one round, though he could accomplish that whether there was a beer promotion or not.

Noora seemed more relaxed compared to the last time they went out. She came up with much more creative hypothetical questions for their game than Even could think of, and he caught her catching a few people’s eyes as they drank. She had bristled at the idea of being hounded by the bar, but could tolerate and even flirt with men when they kept their distance. Though Even began to suspect the distance was because of him. “Ready for another?”

“Ahh, sure.” She wasn’t done with her drink but she could plan ahead. “Actually, switch me to beer too.”

“Okay. If I hang out at the bar for a bit, will you be okay on your own?”

“Yeah. I have a feeling I won’t be on my own for long.”

“I know. Is that okay?”

Noora’s face softened when she understood what he was doing. “Yes. I’ll text you if I need you.”

Even pulled his phone out of his pocket as he stood. He took his glass to the bar, clearing his space for someone else to drop in. He was so tempted to watch from afar, see how quickly it happened, but he used every last ounce of restraint he had to be subtle. He focused on breaking through the crowd at the bar, hovering until the pressure parted the seas.

Once he was pressed into the wood of the bar top he caught Eskild’s eye. He waved him off though, letting him know he didn’t need attention right away. Eskild handled everyone else first, slowly working his way down to Even.

“Same?”

“Beer for Noora too. Probably something darker.”

Eskild pouted but cleared Even’s glass and pulled fresh ones. Even checked his phone, waiting for an SOS from Noora. He didn’t doubt that she could hold her own, but he was trying to be better about not ignoring texts. Just as Eskild slid two pint glasses in front of him, a text _did_ come through.

_I just realized I don’t have anyone to kiss at midnight :(_

“Fuck.” He could hear Isak saying this in his ear, with a hint of a whine. He could see him say it, the way his eyes travel when he’s chasing a brand new thought. He had such a physical reaction to all of Isak’s texts, even the ones that weren’t particularly…physical.

“What’s wrong?” Eskild had leaned over the bar to get a good look at Even’s phone.

“Isak said he doesn’t have anyone to kiss at midnight.” The next thing Even felt was Eskild’s palm flat on his chest, shoving him away from the bar. “What the fuck?” Even reached out for the glasses instead of the bar for balance, sloshing the beer about.

Eskild shoved his hand into his pocket, and before Even could figure out what was going on, he flicked a handful of glitter into his hair. “Get the fuck out of my bar. Go.”

Even let go of the beers so he could tuck away his phone. Then he picked them up and left. The people who had been crowding around him had give him space, not wanting to get involved with the angry bartender and his arsenal of glitter. Even sparkled his way back to Noora.

Someone else had taken his seat, as expected. Even set the beers down. “Sorry, mate.” The stranger moved to stand.

“No, it’s fine, you can stay. Have a beer. I have to go.”

“Is everything okay?” Noora was concerned but stayed in her seat.

“Yeah, just need to go find Isak.”

“You’re covered in glitter.”

“I got Eskild’s blessing.” Even bent down to give Noora a kiss on the cheek, transferring a bit of the glitter in the process. “Happy new year.”

“Happy new year!”

But Even barely heard her as he was already halfway to the door.

The cold finally shocked some sense into him. Once he was outside he pulled out his phone.

_I volunteer. Where are you?_

_No, it’s fine. I can find someone else. Enjoy your party!_

Even laughed, sending a cloud of breath floating up into the night. “Fucker.” He remembered the gallery Isak had mentioned that morning after their shower. He started walking in the general direction of the harbor while he searched for it on a map.

He had to be careful because he was wearing his new shoes, and they were slipping across the snow packed down on the sidewalk. But he ran. He skidded around corners and skied across the footbridges that connected the peninsula. He heard people in the nearby restaurants scream and shout when the clock turned into the new year. He saw people kissing on the street. He ran faster.

The gallery was lit up inside, a lighthouse of glass walls. His eyes scanned the crowd of people before he even found the door, skipping a necessary step. He stood outside, trying to pick out Isak’s blond hair or insane jawline from amongst the other black suits and modern art. But then he noticed people moving to other rooms, that the party wasn’t limited to what he could see. Isak might be somewhere else. He might be kissing someone else.

Even tried the door. It was locked, but someone noticed him and opened it from the inside. He was lucky he’d chosen the tuxedo, because it looked like he’d just stepped out for a smoke and belonged inside. He slipped into the crowd.

He thought about the text messages while he searched. He wondered if he’d read them wrong, if they were just boredom instead of flirtation. Maybe he was supposed to keep his distance. He didn’t want anything specific, anything defined with Isak, and yet here he was, trying to define his kiss, trying to claim it. When he felt a hand brush against his shoulder he whipped around with an intensity only fueled by his desperation for Isak and frustration with himself. But it was just another partygoer trying to squeeze past him. He was near a doorway to another room, clogging up the passage as he took his time with his hunt.

It would be so much easier if he could just…be next to Isak from the start. He would spend less time running across the city, his heart racing while he tried to find the man in a crowd. He was only chasing Isak because he was running away from him in the first place. He was making it more difficult for himself. And now, as he moved on to the next room, he was starting to sweat. 

He could leave now. There were only maybe ten people in the next room, the outer edges of the party, and none of them were Isak. He could give up, and save face. Isak didn’t know he’d run all the way here only to miss his midnight kiss anyway. He was almost twenty minutes too late, and there were too many other handsome men in expensive suits here, plenty to choose from. That’s what he’d said too, he could find someone else. He could find someone else who could stare at…at whatever the fuck was hanging on the wall in front of him and understand what it meant, who could talk to him about the things he loved instead of standing next to him in dumb silence with a stupid pencil. Fuck. “Fuck.”

“Hey, party crasher.”

Even was smiling before he could turn around. But when he did, he saw Isak’s face drop.

“Okay wait, I’m either really drunk or you’re covered in glitter.”

“Both?”

Isak moved in close now, trying to focus his eyes on Even’s hair and dust away what was left of Eskild’s blessing. Even had forgotten what he’d looked like, but also figured it didn’t really matter, considering what he’d done to get there. “Jesus, it’s like a unicorn jizzed on you.”

It was amazing how sharply his mood had turned once Isak appeared, and then skyrocketed with every sentence he let out. His smile was hurting his cheeks.

“Though it’s not a bad look.” Isak stopped dusting and just stared. The pause let Even settle down, recover from the emotional whiplash.

“Did…did you find someone else?”

“Eh?”

“To kiss. Midnight. The new year.” Even kept explaining because Isak’s face didn’t lose its look of confusion for a while. Maybe he really was drunk.

“Oh! No.”

This was where Even would have a smooth line, a segue that would both impress and prepare Isak for what was about to happen. Except he didn’t. So nothing happened.

“Hey,” Isak called out as if Even weren’t right there, as if he didn’t already have every atom of his attention. “Are you…out?”

“Out?”

“I was thinking…I didn’t know if you wanted to not do a relationship because you’re in the closet. And I know I kissed you at the museum and it seemed okay but I dunno, maybe you were just being polite but you really aren’t comfortable being with me in public. Or like, implying that you’re with me in—“

“Isak, it’s fine. Yes, I’m out. I don’t know that I was ever in, but I want to kiss you. Anywhere. In public.”

Isak looked around anyway. There were still a few people having conversations in the quieter room. There was also an entire wall of glass. “Why…does it still feel awkward?”

Even knew why. Maybe Isak wasn’t drunk, just confused. He sighed, not wanting to give the answer, but knowing it’s what Isak deserved. “Because I’m a contradiction. Because I said I didn’t want a relationship, but that’s what a kiss is. Especially in front of people who you probably work with.”

“Shit…if that’s what a kiss is then I think I’ve been married about fifty times now. Wait!” Isak held up a hand. “Fifty-one.” And then it wasn’t awkward, and Even could’ve kissed Isak just for that. He laughed, and Isak threw his arms around his neck. The sudden weight drew him in. “Come on, just a little peck for the new year. Then we’ll get a quickie divorce tomorrow.” Isak puckered his lips for a peck, but Even didn’t want either of them to settle for that. He left his mouth soft and open. He relaxed into Isak and let him choose how to start their new year.

* * *

Isak showed him some of the art. Based on how his mouth had tasted and the explanations that came with the tour, Even figured this was the most drunk he’d seen Isak. It was cute. As they walked through the rooms they remained close, but didn’t kiss anymore, didn’t even hold hands. If he had to, Isak introduced Even as a friend, an artist, but the party was already winding down by one, so most of their conversations remained between the two of them.

“Okay, I think I’m done talking about art. Are you done looking at it?”

“This junk?” Even jerked his thumb at the pile of…stuff in the middle of the room that was somehow social commentary and still in tact despite being surrounded by drunk people all evening. “Yeah.”

Isak laughed too loud. “Great. Come with me to get my coat.”

Even followed him as he wound his way to another employees-only entrance. It was only then that he realized he’d forgotten his coat back at the bar. Isak led them into a conference room where he plucked an overcoat from an almost empty rack. Even wondered how this had worked, if there had been a coat check near the entrance that he had missed, or if assistants were running back and forth all night for the sake of uninterrupted flow of the gallery space. He couldn’t dwell on it though, because Isak then took his hand and pulled him further down a dark corridor, past smaller offices, farther from the party. “What are you doing?”

“Finding a room where you can fuck me.”

Even wasn’t prepared for the clarity that Isak spoke with. It almost sounded stern, and it stopped him in his tracks. Their arms strained but Isak stopped too, instead of letting go. “What?”

“Really quick, before you leave. I mean, you didn’t crash a party just to kiss me in front of modern art, right?”

“No….” Even was the last person on earth to turn down sex with Isak. “But here? It’s an office.”

“Yeah, and getting fucked over a desk is ah-maaaaaay-zing.” Isak turned and tried to keep walking.

“But…” Even didn’t want to do this. He’d done it before, he knew that it was ah-maaaaaay-zing. He didn’t want to do it again. Even looked for another excuse: protection. “I don’t have….” He patted down his hips and magically, unfortunately, there it was. “A condom.” He pulled it out of his right pocket and cursed Eskild.

“I probably would’ve taken you bare anyway but great. Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Even’s voice was loud. It echoed slightly down the hallway. “No.” Isak froze. He didn’t let go though. They both waited to see what Even meant.

But then Isak spoke. “What rule did I break this time?”

It was soft, but it still cut. It was probably meant to be a joke, a tease, but Even wasn’t in the mood to take it as one. He dropped Isak’s hand.

“Even, no. Wait. Okay. We’re not going to have sex here.” Isak reached for Even’s hand again and then walked around him back the way they had come. They went back out to the main gallery, which was empty save for the employees cleaning up. “Do you have a coat? We’re going outside.”

Even just shook his head and kept following Isak. He had been overwhelmed by the fact that he’d stopped Isak in the first place, demanded a change, so he couldn’t think of where they should go next. But he trusted Isak. At least there was that. Isak had listened.

They went outside and Isak put on his coat, letting go of Even’s hand briefly to do that. But he picked it up again. “I didn’t mean to sound dismissive. I just…I didn’t stop to ask you in the first place. And I don’t want to push you away again by demanding things you don’t want. But can we go back to my place?

Even wanted to say yes. He just couldn’t make a decision anymore. Luckily Isak read him well enough to see he wasn’t resisting, and would follow him willingly. They walked. Even thought one thing, and kept thinking it, working up the nerve to say it to Isak. _You should find someone who wants to have sex wherever you want._

It was a long walk. It would’ve made more sense to take a cab in the cold. But they needed to walk. Isak pulled Even into his side so he could keep him warm and walk with him, instead of in front of him. They didn’t say anything for a while, just walked to Isak’s apartment. Even started to relax as he felt the pressure to say something fade away, and as they moved through more and more familiar areas.

Isak didn’t say anything until his door was closed behind Even, until they were pulling off their outer layers in his front hall, which they’d done many times before. “I’m always torn, when I come home late, between taking her out so that she sleeps in with me in the morning, or not bothering because she’ll just bark her head off at six anyway.” Ophelia was sniffing their ankles.

“Does she ever sleep in?”

“Like a fucking rooster.” Isak sighed; he had his answer. As if she had sensed her owner’s disappointment, Ophelia walked away. Even could hear the little thump she made when she hopped up onto the couch in the living room. “Okay, well, I’m going to go brush my teeth because I know I am…ripe.” Isak didn’t take his hand, but Even followed him anyway. He leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom and watched Isak.

Even didn’t regret saying no. It wasn’t what he’d wanted. He didn’t like how difficult it was for him to handle the immediate effects though. He didn’t like that he couldn’t predict them, that he was unprepared for literally anything that happened after, even if was something as kind as walking him home. He knew it could have gone much worse, that Isak could have taken it as another rejection and left him behind. It would have been fair. And maybe that’s why him just standing there watching Isak was still overwhelming. It was still not what he was expecting. It was an unfair kindness.

“You’re so handsome.”

Isak caught his eye in the mirror and mouthed, “Me?” through his toothpaste foam.

“Yes.”

He smiled and spit. Even just kept watching him, feeling overwhelmed but trying to calm himself with Isak’s presence, all of his small movements. He scooped up some water, gargled, spit again. He rinsed his toothbrush and dropped it into its cup. He pulled a hand towel to wipe his face, then applied some chapstick.

“Still handsome.”

Isak finished his basic care. He plucked a second toothbrush from the cup, the one Even had used this morning and didn’t know what to do with until Isak placed it alongside his own. He got the bristles wet under the tap and squeezed out a drop of toothpaste. He turned to Even and opened his mouth, the way a mother opens her mouth when she wants her child to eat the food she’s presenting. Even did. Isak tucked the toothbrush into his cheek. Even closed his mouth to keep it in place.

Isak tilted his head in consideration. “Maybe…maybe it is a turn-on.” Then he stepped around Even and left.


	18. Isak

It was the first walk of the new year, and it felt as fresh and clean as anything else heavily laden with the metaphor. Ophelia greeted all of her friends and even had a little bit of a wrestle with one of them while Isak caught up with his owner. They had gotten a new leash for Christmas, which Isak hadn’t seen yet. It flashed neon light, which they used more when walking near cars than in the park. Isak thought about getting that for himself, for those mornings when he was less awake and aware and could use a bit of extra caution. You never know when a squirrel might fuck up your day by crossing the street in front of your dog.

Toward the end of their walk Isak started his list of questions. He was confident that Even was still in his bed, if only because they ended up getting just a couple hours of sleep. He was going to trap them there, and they were going to talk, because they’d finally reached the point where sex clearly wasn’t the answer. It had worked fine last night, twice, but whatever they were doing wasn’t going to last if it stayed this way. And Isak wanted it to last.

It was a new desire that he’d woken up with. He hadn’t ever woken up and looked at the body in bed next to him and found it was a puzzle, a word problem: _How do I get you to stay?_ Maybe he’d thought _How do I get you to come back?_ , because he rarely got enough of a person after just one night. But that implied that Isak could handle their absence. He wasn’t so sure with Even.

Beyond his textbook horniness, the simple desire to have sex bent over a desk, Isak had dragged him down the hall in an attempt to stop him from leaving. If he just wanted sex, then Isak was ready to give that to him. He would keep a relationship at bay, try not kiss him in public, not define them as anything that made Even uncomfortable. He’d do what needed to be done to meet Even’s conditions. He’d follow those rules. And now he just needed more of them. More rules to follow so Even wouldn’t have a reason to leave. He’d keep him in the game. His next question was _What are your rules?_

Even’s tuxedo jacket was still hanging in the hall when they returned. It obviously wasn’t a guarantee that Even was still here, but Ophelia’s beeline to the bedroom instead of the kitchen was proof enough. She didn’t hunt down her food until Isak made enough noise pouring her kibble into the bowl. Then she trotted into the kitchen. “A new world order, huh?”

Isak waited for Ophelia to finish her breakfast and wash it down with another minute at her water bowl. Then they both walked back to his bedroom, where Even was still sound asleep. He’d shifted to the middle of the bed, and Isak suspected the move was due to a cold nose nudging the skin it could find near the edge. Isak stripped back down to nothing and slipped under the covers. He kept to his side for a moment, to get his body to warm up.

Even was on his stomach, his face buried in a pillow tucked into his elbow. Isak heard him mumble something.

“Hmm?”

“What time is it?”

“Half past seven.”

“Did you take the d-o-g out?”

Isak laughed and rolled over into Even’s space, cold be damned. “Yes, we’re back from the walk.”

“Mmm.”

“How awake are you?” He saw Even’s cheek plump up with a smile above the pillow.

“We can talk but I’m not going to open my eyes.”

“Not even if I’m naked?”

“We’re both naked because that’s how we fell asleep.”

“I almost feel rejected right now.” But Isak flipped over onto his stomach to match Even’s position. He tugged his pillow under his head and snaked an arm across Even’s shoulders, under the blanket. He found an ankle and hooked their feet down below. Even shivered at the touch but shifted into it.

“I can still see you with my eyes closed. I can hear you, I can taste you, I can feel you.”

Isak thought about what Even had said, how sweet and true it was. “Me too.” They both smiled into their pillows.

“Okay, are you comfortable?”

“Almost too comfortable.” Even did shift the pillow though, to reveal more of his face. His eyes remained closed but his mouth was no longer muffled.

“Great, I’m about to make you very uncomfortable.” Isak took a deep breath. “Are you clean?”

Even’s forehead wrinkled, but he still didn’t open his eyes. “Like do I do drugs?”

“Well sure, but I meant more like STDs.”

“I don’t do any drugs. I drink. I think I’m clean but I can’t guarantee that I am. I was clean when I was tested, about a year ago.”

“Okay. I’m clean. I was tested before I met you, and haven’t done anything with anyone else since then. In case you were worried.”

“I probably should have been. But I’ve blown you without a condom, so I think we’re both at risk. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m usually more careful, but I got carried away too. We should probably get tested though.” Even nodded. “Um…I was asking because I wondered if that was the reason why you didn’t want to have sex. Because I mentioned fucking bare. I didn’t know if that was a _thing_ for you, if it was like a kiss, a relationship thing.”

“Oh. No.” Even opened his eyes. “It would be nice to fuck without a condom. And without STDs. I’ll get tested.” He gave Isak a small smile.

“Then…was it something else? Did you just not want to have sex in public? I…I would’ve found a door to lock. It wouldn’t have actually been public, like I know who works there and no one was going to go to their office at the end of the party.”

“Basically…yes. I know it can be thrilling and good, but it’s…I’ve had a complicated history with…thrilling.”

“Were you caught?”

Even’s mouth twisted tight. Isak tried to change the subject.

“You don’t have to answer that. But this is so interesting. At first I thought you were just shy and nervous, not this adventurous. I was wrong. You’re a little slutty too.”

“I used to be. Wild and crazy. But then I…stopped. If you ever meet Eskild, you’ll probably get all of the good stories from him. And like, within the first minute of meeting him. He’s happy to tell anyone within earshot about my shenanigans.”

“I look forward to it.” Isak let that discussion fade. He got the answers he was looking for, and knew there was a reason why Even wasn’t sharing his shenanigans himself. But it didn’t really matter then what the reason was. Isak propped himself up on his side and pulled back the blanket a little bit, to look at the back he’d been slowly running his fingers across while they’d talked.

“I never noticed your stretch marks.”

“Mmm.” Even had light scars dusting the back of his shoulders. They weren’t raised, so it took until this moment, when Isak could see in the very faint light of a winter morning still a ways off, for him to take stock of Even’s back.

“You’re usually facing me when you’re naked.”

“It’s hard not to, naked or clothed.”

“I’m that handsome, huh.”

“Humble, too.” As he made Isak laugh, he let his eyes flutter shut. Isak traced the scars.

They fell back asleep. Isak slumped down and molded himself into Even’s side. He moved his face in close enough to share Even’s pillow, and kiss him softly if he felt the desire to. But they were simply too tired and comfortable to bother with those reassurances.

* * *

Ophelia decided when they had been sleeping for too long. She hopped up onto the bed and huffed around the lumps that their bodies formed under the blanket. Their stomachs rumbled a chorus of support. Isak reached out an arm to acknowledge her and settle her down.

“What time is it?”

“Ophelia o’clock.”

“Mmm. Favorite part of the day.”

“I thought that was Isak o’clock.”

“When is it not Isak o’clock though?”

“Good point.” Isak shooed Ophelia away so he could get out of bed. He checked his phone to find the actual time. “It’s almost fifteen.”

“Fuck.” Even rolled onto his back.

“Somewhere you need to be?” Isak bent down to collect his suit from the floor. He folded the pieces into a pile for a trip to the dry cleaners. He picked up Even’s as well and began hanging them on a spare hanger. “Even?” He hadn’t received an answer, so he turned to look at him. He was simply staring at the ceiling.

“Actually…no.”

“It _is_ a holiday.” Isak moved on to clean clothes, pulling out underwear and shirts for both of them from his closet, then selecting pants from the rack. He did his best to make sure they weren’t matching. “Now I know I promised we wouldn’t do breakfast but we are definitely doing lunch.” He noticed Even tense up ever so slightly. “Oh buck up, Even.” He tossed the outfit right over Even’s face. “It’s just a meal between fuck buddies. You’re not going to break my heart over a sandwich.”

Isak got dressed, then he went to the bathroom to freshen up. When he returned to the bedroom Even was still in bed, but at least he was sitting up. Ophelia was draped across his lap upside down, accepting the luxurious belly rubs that she felt she deserved. Isak watched from the doorway for a moment. “I’m going to pack some bread and cheese and stuff and then take her to the park. Want to join?”

“I think you’d better ask her that.”

“She’ll go wherever you go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Isak walked to his closet to get them socks. He pulled out a plain pair for himself and one of the pairs he got for Christmas for Even. When he tossed the pair to Even, Ophelia shot up, thinking it was a toy to chase.

“Oi. Off.” Ophelia hopped down.

Even threw back the comforter then, finally free. Isak got a good look at his nakedness and instantly regretted giving him clothes to cover it up. He also regretted sleeping for so long, and not spending those hours touching Even, enjoying what his touch could do. Maybe he could make up for it after their little picnic. Even stood and pulled on his outfit.

“Are you going to do something about this?” Isak pointed to his hair.

“My sex hair?”

Isak snorted. “Specifically, the unicorn jizz.”

Even ran a hand through his hair and inspected it for any transfer. None of the glitter came away easily, thanks to the sweat they’d worked up. “I guess I’m just going to be sparkly for a little bit longer.”

“You know, I didn’t think men our age could pull off glitter as a daytime look.” Isak leaned back to appraise Even from head to toe.

“Don’t let Eskild hear you say that.”

Isak let Even finish getting dressed, but he filed away the comment for later. He went to the kitchen, grabbing a tote bag along the way, and filled it with some staples. He heard Even in the bathroom, and then a muffled conversation with Ophelia in the living room. When he was done with the food he went to the hall to pack a few things for the dog: her coat, a long lead, and a toy. “You wear my parka, and I’ll wear my overcoat.” When Even pushed his arms into the nylon sleeves Isak noticed how short they were, and he tossed him a pair of mittens to make up for the exposed skin. “You’re so…long.” He meant it innocently, but when he looked at Even’s face and saw how hard he was trying to hold back a laugh, he knew that Even was perfect. His body made all of Isak’s clothes look cute. His mind knew when to take Isak seriously and when to turn it into a joke. His presence commanded the right amount of Isak’s attention. Ophelia’s as well. She was sitting at his side, waiting for him to issue her command, paying no mind to her actual owner. “Your dirty thoughts need some fresh air. Do you want to take the bag or the dog?”

“Bag.”

Isak handed off the tote and got Ophelia hooked up. Then they all left to chase down the dying light.

* * *

The park was pretty busy. They walked for a little bit among the sculptures, but then branched off to find a bench, sacrificing light for laps to hold their food. They sat close together for warmth and to create a table; they split off bread and cheese and jam. Isak learned how sweet Even liked it, and he dug into the bag for an apple for him as well. Ophelia was wearing her coat and switched to her long lead, but instead of loping about in wide circles she just sat a few feet in front of them, guarding their bench from any passersby.

“Have you ever sketched them?” Isak nodded in the general direction of the center of the park.

“I tried once, in the summer. The scale is off though. To see them I have to stand too far away, and then I don’t think I really see them. It’s also difficult to stand still here, on the paths. The granite is great for texture but I got more from the plaster models inside.”

“Well that’s good.”

Isak tried to keep their conversation casual, nothing that would take too long to answer between bites of food or create stretches of misinterpreted silence. It didn’t take much effort though. The conversation was similar to the ones they would have in the museum, when their hands were occupied with other things, their eyes able to wander instead of feel the pressure of the other’s stare. It was easy when there was other art to diffuse the weight.

Even was almost done with his apple when Isak finally caved. “So…Eks—hah! Um. Eskild. Your roommate?”

“Yeah?”

“Is he…your roommate? I mean, just your roommate? Or. Heh. An ex? Ex-ild?”

“Oh. Oh, Isak. How long have you been holding onto that question?” Even gave him a soft smile. They both knew it had been simmering away on a back burner, ever since Isak noticed him during his initial stalking session on Instagram. Even crunched into the core, nibbling and smiling around the last of the apple, drawing out his response just to make Isak suffer.

“Come on, Even. Of course I’m curious. Your history is so vague, from shenanigans to celibacy. I just want a better idea. It’ll help me understand you.”

“No, you’re just jealous.”

Isak grabbed the jam knife and held it up in a mildly threatening pose. He wasn’t sure if he heard Ophelia growl or if he just imagined it. But then he picked up a napkin and wiped down the blade. The longer he waited for an answer the more embarrassed he felt that he’d asked to begin with, so he tried to move past it by cleaning up their picnic. He wrapped up the last of the cheese and brushed the crumbs off of their knees.

“Eskild is like my brother. Family.” Isak stopped to listen. “Back when I first moved in he was very interested. He’s like you.”

“Gay?”

“Slutty.”

Isak laughed and accepted the definition.

“And while I’ve had my share of slutty moments I always managed to not accept Eskild’s advances. We’re great roommates though. He’s a great roommate.”

Isak wanted to ask more, now that Even seemed to be willing to talk about it. He wanted to ask about having roommates, how he got them, why he still has them. Isak had roommates for a couple of years after university but as soon as he could he found a tiny apartment for himself. He wondered what it was like to not need that kind of privacy and independence.

“Noora is also a great roommate, in case you were also jealous of her.”

Isak scoffed. “I’m not. Besides, I’d already asked about her.”

“Oh?”

“Kim explained.”

“Kim.”

“She’s a great assistant.”

Even barked a laugh, throwing his head back. The glitter in his hair caught a bit of the soft light that managed to reach them. “Do you have all of your employees doing reconnaissance on your hook-ups?”

“No.” Isak played along. “Just you.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”

“You’re just a bit more of a mystery.”

“Trust me, it’s for the best.”

And Isak did. He let his other questions go unasked, unanswered. They finished cleaning up and stood, stretching. The picnic was nice but the cold was getting to their bones. “Back to bed?”

“Seems to be the only option.”

Isak checked his phone. “Actually, let’s finish her walk, go a bit further, so I don’t have to come back out again.” He took off Ophelia’s coat and swapped out her lead. He gave it to Even to hold while he packed away her things, but she started walking as soon as he did that, so Even followed. Isak had to catch up with them down the path. “Do you want to trade?”

“Uh…actually no. I think we’re doing okay.” Ophelia wasn’t pulling, keeping the leash the right amount of slack for a comfortable walk. Isak almost resented her gentle behavior with Even, even though he knew he should be grateful. She could be aggressive, or barking her head off. Instead she acted like he was her soulmate, the one person she would truly be a pet for.

“You know, if something happens to me, you’re going to have to adopt her. I don’t think she’d go with anyone else.”

“That’s fine. But nothing is going to happen to you.” Even took Isak’s hand, squeezing it and then weaving their fingers together. Isak had to lightly cough to cover up his gasp, the shock at the move. This, more so than anything that they had talked about over the past few days, felt like a statement of intimacy. It wasn’t unprotected sex or relationship history or the bronze nudity ushering them out of the park. It was intimate. But it was also different from the way they had held hands the night before, on the way home from the party. They had spent the day together, albeit asleep for most of it, and still Even had reached out. He’d left his mittens stuffed in his pocket because he wanted to hold Isak’s hand in this specific way. He’d made a decision to walk with Isak like this.

Even was wrong: something happened to Isak.


	19. Even

Unfortunately, Even already knew that he was allowed to have a dog at his apartment. Neither Eskild nor Noora were allergic, and they enjoyed friendly animals. Eskild had confirmed with their landlord that they could have a dog, because for five days about two years ago, they did. Even had brought home a dog, taken care of it, and then five days later Noora said it was gone. He couldn’t even remember what it looked like now, but he knew he’d had a dog.

He wouldn’t mind taking care of Ophelia. She was so well-behaved, even when Isak wasn’t around. She seemed like she would be more of a friend than a responsibility, which was something he found very admirable no matter what species you were. She could walk for days but she did it at a good pace, and this whole walk, the trek through her regular route and back to the apartment felt like a casual stroll for Even. It was so relaxed that Even almost thought it was strange. “Does she ever run?” She had run to him that one time, so he was expecting her to chase…something.

“Oh yes, she loves it. When we’re in the woods there’s nothing stopping her. You just have to wait until she’s run out of energy, and that could take a couple of hours of going full speed, non-stop.”

“So is it normal that she’s going so slow right now?”

“Um, probably. I had tried to train her not to pull when she’s on the leash, though if she sees or smells something exciting then she really doesn’t give a fuck. She is quite chill around you though.”

“Okay, well as long as this isn’t…a sign.”

“A sign of what?”

“I don’t know…if she’s sick?”

“Oh, right. Nah, I think she’s just being nice.”

Even just murmured in closing. They were almost back at Isak’s apartment anyway. If Isak wasn’t concerned then he wouldn’t be either. He let go of Isak’s hand so Isak could pull out his keys.

They’d held hands for the whole walk, and Even was proud of himself. He’d been worried that they were taking up too much space on the sidewalk, that they couldn’t move freely to accommodate anyone else walking past, but he stuck it out. It took some time but he finally convinced himself that it was more important to hold onto Isak than let go of him for a stranger. Also Isak’s hand was warm, so there was that.

They returned to their little haven, undressing at the door and warming up. They followed Ophelia to the kitchen, and Isak instructed him on how to feed her while he unpacked the tote bag. Once he finished his assigned chore Even helped himself to some water.

“Do you have work tomorrow?” Isak closed the fridge and folded the tote bag into a small, flat square.

“Depends. Do you?”

“The museum reopens. I really should go in since we have reduced staff, just to keep tabs on things.”

“But it’s Saturday.” Even finished his water with a long gulp. Isak gestured at the sink for him to deposit the empty glass.

“Since when does Saturday matter? Oh.” Isak understood, then, what Even was hinting at. “Oh, you want me to stay home. With you.” Even blushed as if he’d been caught. It was a particular kind of relief when Isak turned away to open the freezer.

“I mean, if you’re not going to go to work then I could also…not go to work. We could hang out some more.” He watched Isak move around him, and it felt like he was invisible, not actually in the kitchen. Isak had pulled out something frozen and was unwrapping it over the stove. Even was relieved Isak wasn’t looking at him, but it almost hurt that he wasn’t responding. He remained still, staring at Isak’s back, listening to the sharp drops of frozen food onto a baking tray. Isak checked the instructions on the box and turned on the oven.

Then Isak spun around and stared at Even. “Do you just want to spend all day in bed again?”

The way he asked it gave Even pause. It felt like he should say no, even though that was exactly what he wanted to do. But he suspected Isak had a rebuke ready to go if he said yes. He wasn’t supposed to want it, but he wasn’t sure why. Today had been nice. “Don’t…don’t you?”

Isak shrugged. He leaned back against the oven but it beeped when he hit a button, so he just moved to the center of the kitchen and crossed his arms. “I also want to go food shopping and drop stuff off at the dry cleaners and maybe start one of those new year resolutions, like taking a yoga class, and…and actually I wouldn’t mind going into the museum because we’re supposed to get some deliveries tomorrow for a new exhibit and it would just put my mind at ease to check in. Then I probably want to go out to dinner tomorrow night because I’ve had too much frozen shit and I could count it toward another resolution to just…stop eating out of a box.”

Even was lost. “You have…new year’s resolutions?”

“The point is, do you want to do that with me? Not just the bed…like, yes, the bed, but also more than that.”

God he sounded so…sad. _Now_ he looked like he was waiting for Even to say no. Even felt stuck, not sure what he actually wanted because right now all he wanted was to not make Isak sad. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Now he looked confused. “I know. You’ve said that before. But Even…remember, this is just sex. Or now it’s just sex and the dry cleaners. If you were an actual disappointment I wouldn’t be asking. _I_ would be the one ghosting you.”

“Yeah, but dinner—“

“What _is_ it with you and formal meals?”

Even had to step forward. “No, I mean it’s just sex and the dry cleaners now, but then it’ll be dinner and dates and a relationship and more and more opportunities for me to—“

“Shut the _fuck_ up Even. Just stop. I asked you about tomorrow. I don’t care what you _might_ do with all of your hypothetical situations, because none of them are what’s actually happening, none of them are this, right now in my kitchen.” Isak wasn't yelling, but his voice was sharp.

The oven beeped again, so Isak went back to it and slid the tray inside. He punched at the control panel to set the timer. “All I want….” Isak turned around and faced him again. “All I want is for you to wait. Wait and see what happens. If you disappoint me, I’ll tell you about it. But you have to wait until it actually happens.”

Even didn’t know how to respond. He found a spot on the floor that wasn’t actually a spot because Isak’s kitchen was quite clean, but his eyes locked onto it anyway. He felt like a child being reprimanded, and now he was supposed to stand in the corner and soak up all of his shame. He was ashamed that he thought like this, and ashamed that Isak called him out on it. He was shocked when Isak spoke again, with a softer voice, because he didn’t expect the shame to recede like a wave. This was just like it had been in his office: Isak was sharp one moment and soft the next, a crash then a retreat. Even had to see the transformation. “So…if I stay home tomorrow, will you run errands with me?”

And because Isak wasn’t dwelling on the shameful behavior, Even couldn’t either. He had to match Isak, and talk about the future the way Isak wanted him to. “I’m not doing yoga.”

“If you don’t do yoga then you absolutely _have_ to take me out to dinner then.”

Their smiles were slowly returning. Even was able to move closer to Isak, the spot on the floor abandoned. “Are you seriously going to do yoga?”

“I’m seriously thinking about it. Did you meet Camilla?”

“I don’t think so. But her name sounds familiar.”

“She works with me at the museum. She’s doing a thirty-day yoga challenge on Instagram. She does yoga regularly, so it isn’t really a challenge for her, but the thing she posted looked easy enough. It would be interesting to try for a month, which is the usual length of my resolutions anyway.”

“Did you start it today?”

“No. If I do it I’m going to start tomorrow. Today is a freebie.”

“I don’t think that’s how New Year’s resolutions work.” As they moved back into a teasing zone, Even felt comfortable stepping into Isak’s space and loosely gripping his waist. He was comfortable with that kind of intimacy, where it was just sex, just the dry cleaners, just a joke. It was low-risk, high-reward, especially if he could get Isak to blush.

“Do you have any resolutions?” Isak tried to deflect.

“No. Even if I did, if I told you, it wouldn’t come true.”

“That’s a wish.”

“What’s the difference?”

Isak opened his mouth to immediately explain, except nothing came out. Even chuckled, and waited for a moment, then jumped in. “They’re goals. They’re both things you want. Sometimes they come true, sometimes they don’t. They’re both shrouded in superstition. A resolution is just a wish with a deadline.”

“I still want to call this bullshit. There is a difference, I just can’t think of it right now.” Isak’s brow was furrowed, and he kept looking around Even as if the answer was hiding somewhere nearby. Even let go of his waist to bring a hand up to his forehead, and he traced the deep wrinkle that pointed down to Isak’s nose. This earned him a shove as Isak broke away, but it also made Isak smile. “I _wish_ you would stop that.”

“No you don’t.” And finally, Even was right.

* * *

It was one of the better Saturdays he’d had in a while, least of all because Isak woke him up with a blowjob. He’d slept through Ophelia’s walk again, and instead of being greeted with her cold wet nose he was treated to Isak’s warm wet mouth. The sound of his own moan pulled him into consciousness. “Ohhhh fuck.” Isak probably said something like “Good morning” in return, but because he was clamped onto his dick, all Even got were the vibrations running straight to his balls. “Fuck fuck fuck.” Even spread his legs and reached his hands down to Isak’s head. They were both still covered by the blanket, generating and trapping heat against the chill of the morning.

It didn’t take long for Isak to suck out an orgasm. Even was weak against anything Isak’s mouth did, and doubly so when he was caught by surprise, so it only took a few minutes of head bobbing before he shot his load. He tried to pull Isak’s head up when he was about to bust—he’d remembered Isak’s concerns about being clean—but Isak kept his cock in his mouth until he was done. Even was paralyzed by pleasure, his grip locked in Isak’s hair, knees pulled up and toes curled, suspended a few inches above the mattress. Somehow his lungs managed to keep breathing, and his heart started up again once the first few pulses passed. “Fuuuuck.” He could feel Isak’s tongue wrapping around his dick, base to tip, as he cleaned up the mess Even had just made. Then, finally, Isak’s mouth set him free. It dropped kisses up his heaving stomach and chest until a mess of hair emerged from the top of the comforter.

“Hi.” Oh, he looked so proud of himself, smiling up at Even.

“Hi. Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ for last night. I still owe you like three orgasms.”

“You _did_ come a lot.”

“I think we just…found our positions. I come much faster when you’re like…above me.”

“Huh.” Even tried to remember all of the positions they’d tried. “Even when I….”

“Yeah. You only ride me. Still on top.” Isak rolled off of him then, taking most of the blanket with him even though he was still wearing clothes.

“Huh.”

“Not that I don’t like other positions. We should really try just about everything. But if we ever need to be quick, you know where to be.”

“That I do.”

“Okay. Do you want to take a shower?”

“Am I on top of you in the shower?”

“Kind of, when you press me against the wall. But I just meant in a more innocent way. Take a shower, start the day. Finally get rid of that glitter.” Isak drew an arm out of the blanket burrito he’d wrapped for himself and twirled his fingers through Even’s hair. 

“If I must.” Even rolled onto his side to reach the bedside table. As he moved the rest of the blanket slipped from his naked body, and he heard Isak make a noise in appreciation. He picked up his phone and flicked it open.

“Are you…taking a selfie in my bed?”

“Shh.” Even demanded silence while he raised one arm for a good angle and fluffed his hair with the other. He was trying to get the glitter to catch some light. He snapped a few options. Then he showed Isak the phone.

“Not only did you take a selfie, but it was a pretentious, artistically vague one.” Isak sneered.

Even had framed the shot from his eyebrows up, so all you could see was the mess of his hair, the pillow, and headboard. It was actually quite specific, when he added a caption and sent it to Eskild, but he didn’t say anything out loud. He let Isak have his little jab. “There are worse things I could take pictures of in your bed.”

With a grunt he sat up. He slid his phone back onto the bedside table. When he looked around the room he saw that Isak had cleaned up their clothes again; his outfit from yesterday was folded in a pile on the corner of the desk, next to his hanging tuxedo. Since he didn’t actually get much wear out of Isak’s outfit yesterday he figured it would be good enough to put on after his shower. But then he remembered all of the things Isak had said he wanted to do. The day would take some strategizing. “What are we doing after the shower?”

Isak held up a hand and ticked items off with his fingers. “Drop off suits at the dry cleaners. Get some form of caffeine and sugar. Grocery shopping. Then I’m going to the museum. You are welcome to join, but you might want to go home instead, so you can change into something that actually fits you, for dinner.”

Even nodded. Strategy sorted.

* * *

“Your butt looks different.” Eskild stretched out a leg and poked Even in the hip with his big toe.

“Well, I’m sitting on it.”

“No, it’s something else. Your whole look is slightly…off.”

“I took a shower.”

“I noticed. Thank you for sending me the sex hair before it disappeared though.”

“You’re welcome.”

Eskild hadn’t paused the movie he was watching, and Even could feel him still staring at his butt. Even took a sip of beer. “You’re missing out on some good gay tips.” He gestured at the TV with his bottle.

“It’s more for you than me, honey. But seriously.” Eskild poked him again. “What’s different?”

“I don’t know. These are Isak’s pants. Shirt, socks too.”

“Ah! That’s it! Your butt looks bigger because the pants are different. Why are you wearing his clothes?”

“It was this or my tuxedo from New Year’s, and that’s at the dry cleaners.”

“You’ve been at his place this whole time?”

“Calm down, it’s only been two days. Not even.”

“Are you going back tonight?”

“Yeah. Well, we’re having dinner. I’d like to go back to his place but technically he hasn’t invited me yet.”

“You’re wearing his clothes. Pretty sure that’s an open invitation.”

“Is that one of the tips these guys give you?” Even pointed at the TV again. “Does Tan explain what happens when you French Tuck another dude’s shirt into your pants?”

“Okay, clearly neither of us is watching this show.” Eskild picked up the remote and began a search for something else. Even sat back and looked at his legs, trying to see the difference that Eskild was obsessed about. They were a little tighter than what he usually wore, but it didn’t feel strange. Isak had nice clothes, even his casual stuff. If Even needed to take tips from a gay guy, the first person he should listen to is Isak. 

“What time is dinner?” Eskild couldn’t find anything satisfying, so he turned back to his next favorite form of entertainment: Even.

“Late, 20. He has to walk the dog and shower and stuff.”

“He has a dog? I don’t remember seeing that on his Instagram.”

“Right? And she’s a great dog. He loves her. I don’t get why he wouldn’t post about her.”

“Weird. Or wait, maybe he’s one of those people who has a whole separate account for his pet. And like, writes captions as if they’re the dog. They don’t post it on their personal account because all of the good content goes toward daily _pupdates_.” Eskild said the portmanteau with the same amount of distain he usually reserved for heterosexuality.

“I don’t think he’s like _that_. But I don’t know, maybe. I guess I could ask him at dinner.”

“Mmm. I hear that’s a thing people do, talk to each other. Not me, of course. Other people.”

“Of course.”

“Why talk when you can suck? Like, that’s basic math.”

“Not math.”

Eskild snorted. “Like you would know. Anyway, where are you going, and why isn’t it my restaurant?”

“A place by my office. And we’re not going to your restaurant because you’re off this weekend, of course. I wouldn’t tease you by taking him to your place when I know you’re not there to tear him apart.”

Eskild reached over and patted his hand. “That’s so sweet. Thank you.”

Even knew Eskild had a nice long break now, after working his ass off through the holidays. He’d save the interrogation for when Eskild was well-rested, in top form. Even finished the rest of his beer and checked the time. Right about now Isak would be out with Ophelia, so he should probably get ready to go soon. He glanced at Eskild, who had been suspiciously quiet over the last thirty seconds, and saw him locked into his phone. “You’re stalking a dog on Instagram, aren’t you?”

“It’s faster than waiting for you to ask him at dinner.”

Even could not argue with the truth.

* * *

It had taken Even longer than he’d thought to choose an outfit for dinner. He tried on the same pair of jeans three times, convinced they were both too casual and too formal for where they were going, what they were doing. He started getting overwhelmed by the idea that this was their first official date, even though neither of them had called it that. The pressure was still there, the fact that they were going to be together in public without another event to disguise it. It wasn’t a benefit, it wasn’t a party, it wasn’t even a chore like walking the dog. It was just to spend time with each other, and there wasn’t an outfit that really worked to mark that kind of occasion. Eventually he kept the jeans on, adding a maroon sweater, black boots, and pea coat. It would work for the restaurant, as well as for the office the next day, if he stayed over and didn’t want to come all the way home to change.

Every time he thought about staying over he immediately chastised himself. But that didn’t stop him from packing Isak’s dirty clothes into the museum tote bag and adding his own clean pair of underwear to it, along with another box of condoms. He felt foolish for doing it, yet there was an even stronger sense of hope about the evening, and the likelihood of Isak wanting him to stay. Perhaps he actually _had_ listened to what Isak said, and he was waiting for something to happen. He was going to let it. He’d be ready for it.

Eskild was still on the couch when he finally emerged from his room; he’d taken over Noora’s nest as soon as she returned to the office that morning. “Text me if you find out about the dog!” he called as Even zipped past him. “You look good!”

It was the perfect boost of confidence he needed to carry him across town. He looked good in his own pants, he was headed to a restaurant that they both liked, and he had at least one topic of conversation they could discuss if it ever got awkward. Not that it ever did, because there was always the option to kiss Isak whenever they didn’t have anything to say. He supposed he could still do that at the restaurant, though. In case of emergency: mouth-to-mouth. He checked his hair in the reflection of the bus window. He checked his phone to see if Isak wanted to cancel or if the world was ending or both. He looked at other people on the bus and wondered if they could tell he, a grown ass man, was nervous about a first date. He checked his hair again.

Even hopped off the bus at his usual stop. He felt his muscle memory kick in, his body automatically turning in the direction of his office. Luckily Isak was outside his building already, waiting for him, and the sight shocked Even back to his original mission. Right. Date night. With an absolutely gorgeous man. Even lengthened his stride to reach Isak faster.

“Nice bag.”

“Hi.” Even stopped close enough to kiss him. He paused.

Isak laughed. “You can kiss me.”

He did.


	20. Isak

Even was shaking. Isak changed his grip on his hand, unthreading their fingers and cupping his palm in a steadier fashion. He couldn’t tell if it helped. But they were almost at the restaurant and Isak needed his hand to get the door anyway. He let go.

They caught the host, Tom, by surprise. “Even! Isak! I didn’t know you knew each other.”

“Hi Tom. Ah, well, we only met what…a month ago?” Isak twisted back to confirm with Even, but he seemed even more unsure.

“A month?”

“I think so.”

“Well I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner, and that it didn’t happen here. Isak, I have your usual table.”

“Thanks.” They followed Tom to Isak’s favorite spot, a corner banquette, and slid in on each side to meet in the middle. They shrugged off their coats and made a small pile on top of the tote bag between them.

“I’ll send Ragnar over with your drinks.”

They both laughed as soon as Tom left. Even managed to speak first. “So I am clearly not the first man to sit across from you in this booth.”

“Oh don’t even start. Tom would’ve taken us to your table if you’d made the reservation. So come on, where exactly do you liquor up all of your dates?” Even knew exactly what was going on so Isak tried to throw it right back at him.

“No no no. I don’t liquor anyone up. I take my team out to lunch and we sit at the big table in the front. Nothing cozy, no hanky panky. God it all makes so much sense. Of course you would have…a method.”

“It’s not a _method_.” It was very much a method, tried and true.

Even snorted. “You are such a shitty liar.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “Walk me through it. How do all of your first dates go?”

Even seemed less nervous, now that he had something to tease Isak about. Isak would take it. Whatever would stop Even from shaking, whatever would get him to lean in like he did, whatever would keep that smirk on his face. “Tom’s a good guy. Treats me like a celebrity, which tends to impress people. I get a nice, private table, and good drinks without having to ask for them.” As if on cue Ragnar sets down napkins and cocktails.

“A minute with the menu guys? Or—“

“No, just the same for me Ragnar.” Isak’s favorites were well-known throughout the staff. Apparently Even’s were as well, because all he did was nod and Ragnar left with their orders.

“Do you do that thing where you order for your date, to show off your taste?”

“Never. That’s my chance to find out what _their_ taste is, so it’s very important for them to spend time with the menu.” Even’s smirk turned into an approving smile. “You can tell a lot, from how long they take, to whether they ask any questions, to what they say as soon as they hand back the menu.”

“Sorry to deprive you of that opportunity.”

Isak shrugged. “You’re not…this isn’t like the usual date. But anyway, when things run efficiently, in the background, then I can just focus on the person. Ragnar keeps our glasses full and knows when to cut us off, though we’re close enough to my apartment that we could get a little silly and still make it home alive.”

“And have you brought everyone through here? Is this step one?”

Isak had to think. “Not everyone. It depends on the situation, how we met, if we even get to the dinner stage. But most of them.” He wondered then, if Even slid to the right, if he could see how worn that seat was from the amount of traffic he’d brought through there. He didn’t want Even to move though.

“Can I get a number? Or do I need to slide Tom some cash for an honest answer?”

“I’d give you one if I had it. But they weren’t worth counting.”

Even leaned back, seemingly satisfied with the answer. He picked up his drink.

“Oi, if Ragnar knows your drink you clearly have a habit here too. Unless you drink at lunch with your coworkers.”

“Nice try. I just know how important it is to befriend the bartender. They're lifesavers. Take me anywhere and I’ll get a drink without asking, no matter what time of day.” Even tapped the edge of Isak’s glass with his own in a half-hearted toast.

“Oh, sorry.” Isak picked up his glass for a proper cheers. They drank their first sip, never looking away.

Isak broke the stare first, having to look at the table so he could place his drink down safely. When he looked back at Even, he was greeted with…suspicion. “What?”

Even waited a moment, as if he weren’t sure whether or not he should reveal what was bothering him. “Tom…is a good guy.”

Isak squinted in return. “Yes.”

“Has he…sat here?”

Isak rolled his eyes. Then he rolled them again when he saw that Even was still waiting for an answer. “Please. He is twelve.”

“He’s not twelve, and some people like older men.” Even shrugged.

“Jesus Even.”

“Hey, you asked about Eskild. I’m going to ask about your toothbrushes.”

Isak relaxed a bit, when he understood what Even meant. He wasn’t judging or criticizing, he was just jealous. He wanted to know who else was a threat. “I still take offense at you calling me an ‘older man.’”

“You may take offense, but you can’t deny it. I’ve met enough of Eskild’s dates to know Tom would one hundred percent call you daddy.”

“Maybe you were right. Maybe going out with you in public was a bad idea.”

Even stuck out his tongue between his teeth, proud of his particularly accurate jab. Isak was relieved when Ragnar dropped off some bread, olive oil, and butter, and plates to catch the crumbs, if only because it would interrupt Even’s flow.

“Shit…I’m so hungry.” This was definitely unlike any of his other dates, because Isak would show much more restraint around bread with anyone else. He broke off a chunk of warm carbohydrates and poured a small pool of oil to dip it into.

“Didn’t we buy half of a grocery store earlier?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t eat anything. After you left I went right to the museum.”

“Was everything okay?”

Isak nodded while he chewed. “It’s fine. The new walls are up, and once the final pieces arrive tomorrow we’ll spend all day Monday installing the new exhibit. I just get worried during these…transition periods. When everything is still coming together. And it won’t stop until the exhibit is up, until all of the pieces are in place.”

“If you’re nervous you seem to handle it very well.”

“Hah! Well, I’ve had years of practice. There’s always a new exhibit, there’s always something that gets fucked up, there’s always a reason to get nervous. So I’m worried but I’m used to being worried now. I think that’s what being an adult is like: finally realizing that the worrying never ends. Once you’re done worrying about one thing, it’s time to worry about something else.”

“Is bumming out your dates part of the method?”

Isak reached over and gave Even a small shove in the shoulder, partly to get him to stop, partly just to touch him. “We’re never coming back here again.”

“Hey I’m being earnest. Maybe if you strike out with your sharp wit and good looks, you could go for pity. ‘The world is ending, might as well fuck’ kind of thing.”

“I now completely understand why you’ve been single for the past year.”

Even raised his eyebrows and smiled, as if Isak had hit the nail on the head. They drank and ate the bread, letting each other eat instead of pushing for conversation. Isak wanted to ask Even what was in the bag he was carrying, but didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Some men were sensitive about bags if they weren’t considered masculine enough, and while the tote bag design was quite plain, a fine art museum tended to carry a feminine reputation. Even didn’t seem to be the kind of guy to get upset about it, but Isak was often surprised by what actually did upset him, so he had to tread lightly anyway.

“So…I, and Eskild…we were curious. Why don’t you take any pictures of Ophelia?”

“Eskild?”

“I told him you have a dog, and he was surprised, because when he looked through your profile…she’s not there.”

“Oh. Hmm. I never thought about that. But….” Isak laughed, now that he was aware of it. “It’s not like she’s some big secret. She’s just…the least photogenic dog in the world.”

“What? She’s so pretty though.”

“Being pretty and photogenic are two _very_ different things. I can show you when we go home tonight. Or actually, let me see if I kept any photos.” Isak reached into his back pocket to pull out his phone, struggling a bit because he was wearing tight jeans. “I tend to delete them because they’re just so bad.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know how she does it, but whenever there’s a phone pointed at her, she knows someone is taking a picture, and she either makes the dumbest expressions or refuses to sit still enough for a single exposure. She looks like she’s blurry or dead, every time. That’s how she got her name.”

“What?” Even huffed in surprise.

“Ugh, I don’t think I have the photo on my phone.” Isak scrolled a bit more but then gave up. “Her adoption photo is possibly the worst photo anyone has ever taken of a pet. She is in a kiddie pool, on her back. You know the way she lies on your lap? Like, that, but then her eyes are wide open as if you just walked in on her taking a bath. She looks like a dead goldfish. Or, rather, she looks like Ophelia, from the painting.”

“The painting?”

“Millais? Pretty famous. I think you’d recognize it if you saw it. I’ll show you at home. I made an image of them side by side to explain it, because it’s so ridiculous how perfect the pose actually is.”

“So you named your dog after a painting.”

“Surprise surprise.”

“What was her name before?”

“I can’t remember. It was something cute, but like, borderline embarrassing. Something I wouldn’t want to call out in public if I ever lost control of her, you know?”

“And hollering ‘Ophelia’ isn’t embarrassing?”

“No. It’s Shakespeare.”

“Oh, of course. Excuse me.”

“I think it suits her better anyway. She’s a character. She deserves a name that isn’t…a dessert.”

Ragnar arrived with their meal just then, slipping the same dish in front of both of them.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Is everything okay?” Ragnar paused at Isak’s outburst.

“Yes, it’s fine. I just didn’t know that we’d ordered the same thing.”

“You both usually get the braised beef. Another round?”

Isak nodded, still a bit stunned. It must be a sign. He watched Even, already armed with his silverware, cut into the meat without hesitation. Isak didn’t know why it had thrown him off so much, why it felt significant that they both frequented this specific restaurant and ordered the same thing. It all made sense, because it was local to both of them, and had a solid, limited, menu. But the fact that this was only becoming apparent to them now, in this fashion, was remarkable. “Isn’t it strange?” he whispered.

“No, mine’s actually really good.” Even barely looked up from his plate to respond.

Isak let it go. He was still hungry. He should eat now and then worry about the coincidence later. He followed Even’s lead and dug in.

When they were done Ragnar replaced their plates with a dessert menu. Before either of them could insist on their usuals, Ragnar explained: “We got a new pastry vendor, so we changed it up a bit last week. I’ll give you guys some time.”

They studied the menu like it was Isak’s new exhibit. His usual was still there, but it had a few extra ingredients listed. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for whatever twists were added to his classic choice, so he worked through all of the other options. Nothing jumped out right away though. He did figure out which dessert Even was probably going to order, and made a small bet with himself. If he got it right, he’d ask about the bag. “Anything catch your eye?” When he didn’t hear an answer right away he looked up at Even. Even was staring back at him with a smug look on his face. “Don’t fucking say it.”

“Y—“

“Even!”

Even collapsed back into his seat, laughing hard. Isak wanted to reach over and twist his nipple, punishment for daring to be so cheesy. It didn’t matter that it was quite a compliment, actually quite sweet of him, because Isak had a low tolerance for sentimentality, even if it was conveyed jokingly.

The commotion drew Ragnar back to the table. “Ready?”

Even held out a hand, gesturing for Isak to go first. “I’ll have the raspberry tart.”

Ragnar nodded, accepting the change without judgment. Then he turned to Even. “And I’ll have the bombe glacée.”

Isak was right but he had no way of celebrating. He just suppressed his smile and handed the menu back to Ragnar. Now that the table was cleared, he crossed his arms and leaned forward onto his elbows. “Okay, so I’ve tried to resist but I have to ask: what’s in the bag?”

“Oh! It’s just your clothes. I wanted to return them before they got lost in my room.”

Isak clicked his tongue. “You should have told me. I could have run it upstairs before we left.” He shifted to his right so he could dig under their coats to get to the bag. He felt bad that Even had been carrying around his business for so long.

“Well it’s also—“ Even reached for the bag as if to take it back. Isak noticed the flush in his cheeks and his curiosity flared. He pulled open the bag.

“Even.” Isak reached in and tugged a bit of fabric up over the edge. “This is not my underwear.” Even pushed down on Isak’s hand to hide the scandalous waistband. This just directed Isak’s attention to the box he hit, underneath the underwear. He plucked Even’s fingers away with his other hand to get a better look. “And these are definitely not my condoms.”

“Please do not pull those out.” Even was glancing around the restaurant to see if anyone was watching Isak embarrass him into the ground.

“Don’t pull out?” He saw his chance and he took it. He tried to wiggle his eyebrows just like Even did. Even wasn’t able to witness his attempt though, because he promptly fell to his side along the tufted bench, disappearing below the level of the table. “Even.” Isak reached under the edge and pinched his now-available butt. Even lifted his head high enough to look Isak in the eye. “There are more important things to be ashamed of than safe sex.”

“Like dessert!” Ragnar had arrived with their sweets. Even disappeared again, mortified that Ragnar had heard Isak well enough to chime in. Isak laughed so hard he almost didn’t make any sound.

* * *

The raspberry tart wasn’t amazing. Isak ate about a third of it before shoving the plate in front of Even. He sat back and watched Even eat, demolishing his bombe and scooping up the crumbs of the tart, which was just as satisfying. They enjoyed one more cocktail then split the check. By that time it was so late that Tom had already left. They pulled on their coats and waved goodbye to Ragnar, who was already setting tables for tomorrow. 

“Would you like to carry the condom bag or shall I?” Isak held out the tote bag with two fingers, similar to how he would pinch a used condom on its way to the bin. Even swiped the cloth handles from Isak’s grip.

“For the record, if that’s what all of your first dates are like, I can’t imagine how you get men to use a toothbrush in your apartment, let alone make it all the way through dessert.”

Isak framed his face and batted his eyes in an exaggerated flirt. “Some men are just _that_ horny. Although, _for the record_ , none of them have brought a full box of condoms to dinner.” Isak skipped over to the door to escape any physical reaction from Even. He made it outside unscathed. Isak waited for Even to catch up. “To mine then?”

“I believe you promised me a photo of Ophelia, so yes.”

Isak gave a little hop. “I can’t believe I forgot! Of course. Let’s go.” He grabbed Even’s hand and they rushed back to the apartment.

Ophelia greeted them with the disdain of a sober person who has been saddled with the responsibility of her drunk friends. She tolerated Isak as he dropped down and squished her head in his hands, cooing dessert-sounding names into her fur. As soon as he let go she disappeared. “What a little bitch,” he commented, though still in a sing-song voice.

“You kind of hate your dog, huh.”

Isak spun around with an exaggerated gasp. “You lie!” He pulled off his coat in a similarly dramatic fashion. Even was chuckling, which only egged Isak on. He tossed his coat right in Even’s face, as if he were a standing coat rack or Miranda Priestly’s second assistant. Even had impressive tipsy reflexes though, and he caught the coat and hung it up alongside his own. Isak then had an idea, to test Even’s reflexes all the way to the bedroom. He started stripping, tugging off his socks first, and began a trail of discarded clothing down the hallway.

Isak’s striptease was short-lived. Once he caught sight of his computer in the bedroom he remembered his original promise. He was still in his jeans when he got to his laptop. Even followed him into the room with his sweater, button-up shirt, and socks. He deposited them in Isak’s hamper, along with the clothes he’d brought back in the tote bag. Isak noticed out of the corner of his eye, and mumbled a thank you while he hunched over the keyboard and typed in his password.

He was excited to find the photo—the mere thought of Ophelia’s expression made him giggle—but he had absolutely no idea where he’d saved it. While he clicked around he was vaguely aware of Even moving about the room, but couldn’t spare him any attention while he was on the hunt. He searched his files for any variation of Ophelia’s name, and even tried to find the shelter’s website, in case her profile was still listed under the “happy families” tab. It was taking so long to find that he might as well pull out the chair and sit down, but if he did that he felt like that would make the photo even more difficult to find.

“Did you do your yoga today?”

“Oh fuck. No.” On top of not being able to find the photo he was reminded of his failure to start the challenge.

“Another freebie?”

“Sure. weekends don’t co—“

“Or….” Even pressed a firm, flat palm in the center of Isak’s back. Isak froze. His hand was warm. It slid slowly up toward his shoulders, as if he were ironing out Isak’s spine. His back straightened. He moved his own hands to the desk to support himself against the pressure. His vision blurred as his entire body tried to focus on what was going on behind, above him. “What’s that one pose? Downward doggy?”

If it had been two hours earlier, when they were sitting at the table and teasing each other, Isak would have laughed at the line. Objectively, it deserved to be ridiculed. But right now Isak was bent over, half naked, and Even had managed to ask a question that sounded both innocent and dirty at the same time, as if he didn’t exactly know how to fuck Isak over his desk but he was going to do it very well anyway. Isak felt two things: the heat of Even’s palm on his back and the swelling of his dick in his pants. “Even.”

“I could help. I could stretch you.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Even’s hand kept sliding up Isak’s back, pivoting when it reached his neck and grabbing the curls at the nape. He gently pulled. Isak raised his head without resistance, and saw himself reflected in the dark window. He should close the blinds, but he didn’t dare move. It was getting difficult to breathe normally, and all of his muscles were tense, waiting for Even’s next touch. His head dropped when Even let go of his hair.

Isak closed his eyes, the better to see Even’s fingers as they danced back down his spine. It felt good as a massage and even better as a tease. He arched his back as the fingers kept going, encouraging their descent with an added slope. They squeezed past the waistband of his jeans and underwear. Isak grunted. He pushed his ass back as if that would help wiggle Even’s fingers deeper into his crack, closer to his hole. He was about to bust out of his jeans.

“I hear yoga is great if you’re really tight.”

“Oh fuck it.” Isak stood up. Even’s hand was still trapped in his pants, and the sudden movement pulled him into Isak’s back, unsteady. Isak undid his fly. The rub of the fabric on his dick was nearly unbearable.

“So no yoga then?” Even steadied himself by wrapping his other arm around Isak’s torso. With the extra give, Even’s hand dipped further into Isak’s pants, cupping as much ass as it could get.

“Why…are…you still…wearing…clothes?” Isak huffed with the effort of pushing down his pants and not succumbing to whatever Even was doing with his fingers. Even laughed and broke away. Isak whimpered when he lost his touch. “Wait. Come on. We can do naked yoga.”

Isak’s pants were stuck at his thighs but he shuffled around to face Even. Then he noticed that Even was not abandoning him at the end of his joke. His comforter had been pulled back and a towel laid out, the box of condoms and bottle of lube were in the middle of the bed. Even was shutting the door. “Oh.”

“I actually don’t think you could handle yoga considering your struggle with tight pants.”

“I should get an award for maintaining a boner whenever you try to make a joke.” Isak shuffle-hopped over to the bed and flopped onto his back. He lifted his legs in a silent demand for help. They came crashing down seconds later when his muscles gave out. Even was focused on removing his own clothes first; he folded them neatly in a pile on the desk. Isak had nothing else to do but watch, trapped, and stroke his dick while he waited.

“How did you even get these on?” Even finally approached, bending down to tug on Isak’s jeans at the ankles.

“I must’ve been skinnier before dinner.”

As much as it was a struggle for Even to work the denim down his legs, Isak was enjoying it. Even’s body was quite smooth at rest, so it was nice to be able to watch his muscles flex from a bit more of a distance than usual. It was also funny because Even’s dick was bouncing with each pull, and it looked like it was flexing too. He let out a soft giggle. Even smiled.

And finally he was free.

Isak propped himself up on his elbows and spread his legs. He was going to put his new freedom and flexibility to good use. “Come to daddy.”


	21. Isak

Isak barely made it to the museum on Sunday. Even had kept him in bed even though both of them needed to go to work. And it wasn’t just because of sex, as much as they did do it. He wanted to talk and play with Ophelia and wait for the sun to rise and then wait for the sun to set and have a picnic. They did most of that. Then they left. Isak zipped over to the museum and went right for the storage lockers, catching the crew just in time. He fumbled with the inventory system, trying to remember the shortcuts he’d seen Kim use. Then he went to his office to finally acknowledge his to-do list and get tasks queued up for the busy week to come. Once he had everything in place for Monday he rushed home for Ophelia’s evening walk.

He was tempted to text Even and invite him over for the night, but he knew he had to get some decent sleep, and definitely couldn’t be late to the museum on Monday. He made a simple salad for himself for dinner and went to bed soon after. He texted Even good night and didn’t stay awake long enough to receive a reply. It was as if his body knew how rough Monday was going to be and was exhausted in advance. The next morning Kim was ready and waiting for him with another bucket of coffee at her cubicle.

“So you’re going back to Paris?”

Isak had been avoiding the trip so much that he’d actually managed to forget about it. “What?” He briefly disappeared into his office to take off his coat and scarf and pick up the floor plans he would need to reference.

“Geir asked if I’d booked your Paris flight yet.” Kim sipped her own giant cup of coffee, waiting for him to admit he’d made a mistake.

“Shit. Yes. Hubert demanded one more meeting.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.” He picked up his cup and they started walking out.

“You should really figure it out, if only because I’m trying to manage your calendar and I’m already booking stuff for February.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Actually, could you email him? Ask if he has a specific timeframe in mind? If I write something I think it’s going to sound too angry.”

“Sounds like it’s going to be a fun trip.” Kim pulled her phone out to draft a very business-like email. She fell back a bit while they were walking, slowed by the multi-tasking, so by the time they’d climbed the stairs to the gallery Isak had to pause and wait for her to catch up. “Sent. Happy new year, by the way.”

“Oh, right. Happy new year.” Isak knocked his cup against hers. “Anything crazy happen?”

“Like besides the passage of time? Nope.”

“How’d your eyeliner work out?”

Kim gave him a strange look. “That’s a weird thing to remember.”

Isak shrugged. They turned the corner into the first room, which didn’t have any construction done for the new exhibit. “I don’t know, that was like...the last thing we talked about. All I could remember.”

“Sounds like _you_ had an interesting new year.”

He let out a huff. “I guess.”

“Should I ask you about the last thing we _actually_ talked about?”

They entered the second room. Isak handed his cup to Kim so he could flip to the corresponding page of the floor plan. After three months of piecing together a puzzle, it was standing almost complete in front of him: four new walls in the middle of the room, painted to match, with lighting and hanging wires installed. Kim let out an appreciative whistle from afar, then moved in close.

“Did they…age the wood?” She dropped down to a squat to look closely at the floor molding, which had been stained unevenly to match the perimeter wall.

“It had to be seamless. Can’t have people walking in and noticing new construction instead of what’s on display.”

“Did Geir tell you to do that?”

“No. Can’t remember who did. Maybe I read it somewhere? Or just noticed it at another museum. But it’s something you have to build into the budget if you want it, and make sure the designer is aware.”

“Definitely wouldn’t have thought about that,” Kim muttered as she stood up.

“You wouldn’t, most of the time, but because I was trying to spread this exhibit throughout other established collections I had to add a couple of steps. It’s much easier when the exhibits are self-contained and you can just change the whole room or venue.”

“Oh, so you’re just flexing at this point.”

Isak shrugged again. “Have to keep it fresh.” He walked around the new walls, checking each wire set-up and which piece was assigned to it. He had measurements listed for them but he’d forgotten his tape measure in his office, so he gave up on checking them that thoroughly. Nothing looked obviously wrong though. He reached to take his cup back from Kim, who’d been following him. Caffeine was the priority at this point.

“So…back to your new year.”

“Hmm?”

“Last I heard from you, you were waiting to hear from Even.”

“If I recall correctly I was supposed to email you once I got a response.”

“Oh, so you _do_ remember my instructions. Good, good.”

Isak stopped and squinted at her. “You’re fishing.”

“Only because you’re not offering it freely.”

“What do you know?”

“Noora says he responded.”

Isak nodded in confirmation.

“At your apartment. Every night.”

Isak kept nodding, but walked away. He didn’t speak until he was on the other side of the wall in the third room, hiding. “So you don’t actually need me to tell you anything,” he said to the ceiling, letting his voice float back to Kim.

“You could say that I’m…checking my sources.”

“Great. I think I need to have a little chat with Noora.”

“For the record,” Kim peeked around the corner, having caught up with him, “this was mostly just my curiosity.”

Isak pretended to be checking something on the plan, but he was still on the wrong page. “You were never this curious before though. I feel like Noora has been egging you on. She _is_ an investigative journalist after all.”

“Out of all of our texts, maybe like…two percent of them have to do with you or Even. We talk about art most of the time. Or like, the world of art. To be honest she might be trying to see if there’s some kind of story, because she sends me articles and wants to know if there’s anything…deeper.”

“Oh, so she’s turning you into a source.”

Kim stepped closer to Isak, sensing that he wasn’t too annoyed with her prying. She took his coffee so he could turn the page to the right one. “Maybe? It doesn’t just feel like that though. Some of the stuff she sends me is interesting, and then we have pretty good conversations about it. We talked a lot about that d’Orsay exhibit, and that was actually more about the journalism of the art world, in addition to historical representation. Almost ironic, what was being erased again. What we talk about when we talk about art.”

Isak hummed an acknowledgement. He’d seen a couple of articles but didn’t read beyond that, since most of it sounded like the usual PR push for an opening. Apparently he’d missed something. But right then it just reminded him about their publicity meeting in a couple of hours, so his mind didn’t stay with Kim for very long. Until, of course, she brought it back to Even.

“Well anyway, we’re not usually talking about you. But this also feels different from literally any other relationship you’ve had.”

“How so?”

“Well…I think it’s the only one you’ve ever talked to me about? And you have this reputation, so—“

“A reputation?” Isak stepped back from the wall, now fully focused on what Kim was saying.

“Yeah, you’re a…ladies’ man. But for dudes. I don’t know if there’s a word for it. Player? That still sounds too straight.”

While Kim got caught up in word choice, Isak heard Even’s voice calling him a slut in his head. He laughed. “I am aggressively single.”

“Yes, that’s the perfect way to describe yourself.” Kim sounded relieved that Isak was aware of his reputation, and embraced it. “And that’s why Even stands out. Because maybe…you’re not?”

“I think you would have to ask him about that actually. Bit of a touchy subject.”

They moved on to the next room. In some serendipitous timing, a cart carrying three pieces was just being delivered through the other entrance by the handlers. As much as Isak wanted to jump right into the hanging of the new art, he actually wanted to talk about Even more. This was a rare opportunity for another opinion, since he hadn’t spoken about their relationship, or lack thereof, with anyone else since Kim had asked a week ago. He spun around and stopped her. “He doesn’t want to be in a relationship.” 

Kim was stunned by the quick turnabout, as she’d been ready to focus on the actual work that had brought them upstairs. Her mouth popped open, wordlessly.

“I’m with him every day, but I’m not _with_ him.”

“O-okay. Friends with benefits.” Kim offered the other definition as if to placate him. She could hear the strain in his voice, the tension between what he was describing and what he actually wanted.

“He doesn’t even want to date. I managed to take him out for dinner the other night. It was fine, but the whole time I was silently chanting, ‘Not a date, not a date, not a date,’ as if that would keep him calm.”

Kim glanced over his shoulder. The handlers were already pulling the frames out, doing their jobs without waiting for Isak. “I’d love to keep talking about this, but maybe not here? Let’s get through the hanging and then circle back to it at lunch?” Once again Kim took control of the situation. “That’s what I do with the girls. Having food nearby usually helps.”

Isak’s body snapped to attention as he realized what he was doing. “Jesus, Kim. No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about this with you. Shit. Okay, let’s just hang some fucking art.” He spun back around and finished walking to the center of the room. He was embarrassed he’d let himself whine like that, and whine to his own assistant...again. She was not here to fix his love life. She was here to learn how to install an exhibit. Fuck. He’d buy her lunch to make up for it, but they most definitely would not talk about Even.

* * *

That didn’t stop him from _thinking_ about him though. After they got half of the walls hung they took a break so Isak could go to his meeting and the handlers could bring up the rest of the pieces. There was also one wire that needed to be adjusted, so Isak called a technician before heading into the small conference room where they usually met with their marketing & PR teams. Camilla stopped by his office to pick him up on their way in. “How’s it going upstairs?”

“Fine. Hey…would you call me ‘slutty?’” Isak stood and gathered his phone and notes.

“If you want, sure.”

Isak laughed. “I mean, is that my reputation here? I was talking to Kim this morning and she said that’s what I’m…like.” Camilla shrugged and started walking once he was ready.

“You’re a bachelor. And because you’re a man, you get to be called a bachelor without people thinking you’re also slutty. But we’ve worked together for years and I don’t think we’ve ever talked about your partners, so it’s not like you’re flaunting it either. If I had to give it a name, I’d call you a lone wolf.” Camilla delivered her assessment thoroughly, and without batting an eye at the sudden influx of his personal life. The fact that Isak never discussed it with anyone else was painfully obvious in his inability to stop once he’d opened the floodgates.

“Do you think…that’s a bad thing?”

Camilla stopped walking to look at him. “It seems like it’s something you excel at. But it’s a personal preference, Isak. Some people focus on being in a relationship, some people focus on being single, some people do both in waves. It’s just whatever fits your lifestyle.”

“You’re single.”

“Yes, but I’m not as good at it as you.” She gave him a pat on the shoulder, ending the conversation, because they really had to get to their meeting. There was going to be an update for Isak’s exhibition from the teams, but this was more important for Camilla because they were pitching plans for her own exhibition in the spring. Isak followed her into the conference room and they took their places on either side of Geir at the table. He wished his boss a happy new year.

“To you as well. Were you at Knut’s party?”

“At the gallery? Yes. Were you there too?”

“Stopped in very briefly, wasn’t sure if I saw you. Looked quite fun though.”

“It was a good night.”

“Glad everyone made it out alive.” Geir nodded to greet everyone as they entered the room and took their seats. Isak checked his email while they waited.

Kim had forwarded a very polite exchange she had with Hubert’s assistant, confirming a dinner meeting in two weeks at Hubert’s favorite restaurant. He switched over to his calendar to see what he was going to have to work around. _Find me something on SAS that gets in on Monday afternoon and leaves late Tuesday morning, please. And book my usual hotel. Clear all of Tuesday; I’ll need the time for a full recovery._ Kim confirmed his flight before the meeting even started.

* * *

After the meeting he took Kim out for lunch. He actually managed to avoid talking about Even with her, due to his respect for her as his employee, but mostly because she reminded him how poorly he was prepared for his own exhibit. She quizzed him on each piece, referencing the tour material that she’d helped write and apparently memorized completely. It was particularly embarrassing, how much she had to fill in for him, because he had two tours scheduled on Wednesday that he would have to complete without her gentle prompts. Part of the problem was how he was only thinking about the exhibit in terms of Even, the specific tour he would give him on Tuesday, and how much of it would be Isak trying to read what Even saw instead of telling him anything at all.

“If you’d like I can print out the exhibit book for you to study at home.” Kim was only half-joking as they walked back to the museum.

“It’s online, right?”

“In the press kit. The exhibit link won’t go live until tomorrow.”

“I’ll read that tonight. Thanks.”

He didn’t explain what was taking up all of the space in his brain that used to belong to the art he so carefully collected, but Kim probably could tell what it was anyway. She didn’t bring it up though. Instead she tried to dig up details on what Isak planned to do with the French Impressionists he was trying to coax out of Hubert. He’d been quiet about those, beyond his frustrating phone calls, because he didn’t like to talk about unconfirmed steps. Why waste anyone’s time planning a collection if it could still fall through?

“Well, if Hubert gives me everything I asked for, I’ll have two rooms-worth to play with. But the whole thing started with looking at which ones we had in-house. About three years ago we were under really heavy pressure to limit our borrowing, because the budgets were getting out of hand. And we really do have an incredible permanent collection, but most of it gets forgotten about downstairs. So it was just this push to be more creative with what we had, both in what we could offer to other museums and how to present it to our community in a fresh way. I picked one of my favorite periods and started researching where the artists overlapped, what their influences were with each other and how, if, you could trace it through certain works.”

Kim looked unimpressed, as this seemed to be a standard level of cohesion for a collection, nothing revolutionary. But she let him keep talking, staying in step as they entered the museum and went directly to the gallery to resume the hanging.

“So I found my…path, I guess. The trail of influence, and I picked out one piece from each artist that would connect it to at least two others. They’ll be placed around the room in that initial order, but then I want to figure out what to do with the crossfire. What can I do with the room so that people know it’s _not_ linear? That they should seek out any other path, find their own connection between Rouart”—Isak pointed to his left—“and Bracquemond.” He pointed to the right. Kim looked at the walls as if the impressionists were already there. “There has been a lot of good work done to make connections, lives exhumed and small details pieced together. But if you think about all of the media, all of the art that you consume on a daily basis, the connections between what you consume and what you create are less a line and more a pool. Everything gets mixed together. So yes, you can look at one thing and see how it influenced another, but you can also look at three things and say ‘This particular combination of things became this other seemingly unrelated thing.’”

They were standing at the entrance to the last room they’d been working on before they had to break. The next set of paintings had been delivered and they were waiting to be hung, their security escort standing nearby checking his phone. But Isak and Kim weren’t looking at the old exhibit or even the one that was being built right in front of them. They were seeing the pool. “The one constraint is time. I have to have my main path so that you aren’t making impossible connections, you aren’t trying to show me how one painting influenced another before it even existed. There are also the limits of history, because art couldn’t travel at the speed of light back then. But that aside, I want people to see how many connections they can make, and understand how many connections the artists were making. These paintings were the strokes of a genius, but their brush was dipping into an enormous pool of other people’s creativity.”

They were quiet as Isak tried to picture the room that would let him showcase that understanding. Right now it still felt too grand of an idea, both because Isak couldn’t translate it physically, and because he refused to consider containing it to a room until he had all of the pieces in place. And those were still being held hostage by Hubert. He was getting angry just thinking about the potential roadblock the Frenchman was creating, so it was good when the guy on his phone finally looked up and waved them over.

“Hey. I have all of this art but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it.”

“The eternal struggle,” Isak muttered.

Kim pulled off her coat and set her tote bag on the ground. She slid out the floor plans and dove right in.

* * *

They didn’t finish until about half an hour before Isak had to head home. He did one more loop of the gallery in an attempt to see everything with fresh eyes but he didn’t notice anything out of place. He’d come in early tomorrow to do it again.

There wasn’t enough time to really start anything new once he was back at his desk. He glanced at his inbox for any red flags and answered a couple of quick emails. Then he returned to his hunt for the photo of Ophelia, which had been interrupted multiple times by Even. It finally occurred to Isak that he might have saved the photo on his work computer if he had emailed it to Lucina when he was congratulating her on the loan. He found it pretty quickly, saved as Ophelia_dumb.jpg in that random folder on his desktop where he dragged everything he didn’t want to file away properly. He opened it and laughed out loud, and then kept laughing as he tried to picture Even’s reaction. Then he dragged it to his dropbox and opened the file on his phone. He was about to text it to him when he realized he should hold onto it for a more effective exchange. It’s not that he had to lure Even back to his apartment with anything more than a suggestive text, but the promise of the dog had worked before and it added some variety to their usual back-and-forth.

Thinking of Even now he remembered the promise to get tested, which had been put off due to the holiday. He looked up his doctor’s office and called for their first appointment; he could break away from the museum at any moment for routine blood work. This unfortunately led to him trying to picture Even’s dick, in case he’d missed something that looked strange, transmittable, but it was difficult to remember anything short of perfection. He remained trapped at his desk a little longer than he’d hoped to be, while his fantasy died down and the receptionist confirmed his visit for the next day.


	22. Even

It surprised Even how productive his day had been. He thought he’d be distracted, by the fact that it was Monday and how difficult it had been to leave Isak’s apartment the day before. But he’d held a very efficient team meeting, welcoming everyone back to the office and making sure they were set with their new assignments and schedules. Kirsti stayed in his office afterward to brainstorm their direction, sketching ideas on one of Even’s pads and then dividing up the work for the game’s first level. They had an actual map for their gameplay so Kirsti was going to start on the streets and exteriors, while Even went inside key rooms. Kirsti went back to her own station once they had decided on their task lists and Even was left to a few hours of steady, uninterrupted building.

He didn’t notice the time until his own boss stopped by his office on his way out. “Even! It’s Monday.”

“Oh, yeah, well I skipped this weekend. And I wanted to get everyone started on their storyboards.” He barely looked away from his screen when he replied.

“It’s the new year. I expected you’d take some time for the holiday.”

“I did,” he mumbled, quite unconvincingly. Tor smiled while he pulled on his coat.

“I meant more than just switching which days you take for the weekend. But hey, you got your team going, right? Work is done, go home. I don’t want to see you here tomorrow. Sleep in for fuck’s sake.”

Even waved him off and Tor left. 

He should stay home tomorrow. Or he should go to the museum, to see the exhibit that Isak had been stressing about, just so he could be impressed and reassure Isak that it was wonderful. He should find something else to study and practice his sketches. Maybe some still lifes to help inspire his prop work. Even looked down at his pad and flipped through what he’d done over the past few weeks. Then he remembered he’d hidden the ones of Isak, and dug them out of his drawer. It was funny to look at them now, and know how different Isak was compared to the man he thought he’d been drawing. He instantly wanted to edit them, fix the angles and shadows that time and closeness corrected. He wanted to add background, details to place Isak very much in his world. Then he realized…he could.

Even saved and closed his work files. Work was done. He found the quick gifs he’d made, and let those loop for a bit. The movements were also wrong, if only because they were so limited. He’d seen Isak move from across the room and underneath his hands; there was much more purpose than what he’d animated, and much more range. He opened a new file and started from scratch. A new Isak, a new world.

* * *

The overhead light in the hallway flicked on. “Shit.” That meant someone was here. Even glanced at the clock on his screen; it was almost 8. “Shit shit shit.” He saved his models to a flash drive and hastily pulled it from his computer. He managed to remember his phone and coat, but then he made a hasty run out of his office. It was their front desk receptionist who had triggered the lights. He waved to her on his way. “Hi! Bye! If Tor asks I wasn’t here!”

The cold outside was refreshing. He took deep breaths of it out on the sidewalk, the winter air acting as a stimulant after an entire night spent in his office. He looked in the direction of Isak’s apartment while he put on his coat. Isak was probably showering now, or maybe eating breakfast, or maybe already on the bus to work. Didn’t he say he had an early morning? Even checked his phone. Isak had sent a couple updates last night that Even had barely registered and quickly ignored.

_Long day. Dinner?_

_Heading to bed. Early day tomorrow. See you in the gallery?_

Even finally replied: _Good morning!_

It was Tuesday, right? It was too early to go to the museum. But he had to do something. He could go get some tea. And then maybe go home and change, work some more on the game. He really should focus on the environment, because right now he just had a single character with no world to inhabit. Why was he spending time mapping Isak to run when he had nowhere to go? Yes, those are good next steps. Caffeine. Clothes. Great.

* * *

“Eskild! Breakfast!” Even called out from the hallway as he kicked off his boots. They thumped against the wall. He didn’t know if Eskild was awake, or even home, and he didn’t hear a response. He carried the tray of buns he’d purchased on the way home into the living room. Eskild wasn’t there, but the blanket nest was still taking up most of the couch. He went to Eskild’s door and knocked.

“Fuck off!”

“I brought buns home!”

“So did I!” 

Even heard the smack of a hand on flesh and then a high-pitched yelp. It could’ve been Eskild himself, or it could’ve been someone else. He listened at the door for a moment, and then abandoned his post.

Even wasn’t hungry, so he left the buns on the coffee table. He tidied up while he was there, folding blankets and sorting the mail, carrying used glasses and mugs back to the kitchen. This sent him on a run back to his room, to bring out the dirty glasses and plates he knew were getting crusty on his desk. He had the energy now, he could clean up, and feel like he’d accomplished something. He got a bit distracted once he was in his room though; he pulled out his flash drive and plugged it into his computer. While he waited for it to load he stripped his bed. The sheets needed to be cleaned too. He created a giant pile of fabric—clothes and blankets and towels—to be carried down to the laundry room at some point. He went back to his computer.

He went back to the kitchen.

He went back to his bed.

He went back to his computer.

_Did I miss you?_

Around 19 someone knocked on his door. “Yeah?”

Eskild opened it just far enough to pop his head in. “Do you want to join me and Oliver for dinner?”

Finally Even noticed the time. He twisted away from his computer to face Eskild. “Does _Oliver_ want me to join you for dinner?”

Eskild’s head disappeared. It was replaced with Oliver’s. “Hi.”

“Hi!”

“Thanks for the breakfast. And yeah, it would be nice if you could come. You wouldn’t be intruding or anything. It’s just dinner.”

“Okay. Now?”

“We can wait until you’re ready, but yeah.”

Even looked down at his lap as if that would decide things. He was wearing clothes. They were the same clothes from yesterday. Possibly the day before? But his lap looked clean. He hopped up. He saved his files. Shit they were starting to look really good. The tall grass took so much time but he had so many variations and he wanted to map at least twenty patterns. He’d do that after dinner. Even grabbed his phone and wallet and went to meet Eskild and Oliver in the living room.

“To yours then?”

Eskild scoffed. “Return to the scene of the crime? No thanks. Oliver knows a nice place. I’m not legally required to be at the bar for another three days.”

They all walked to the hallway to put on coats and boots. Even hadn’t realized how small Oliver was, the top of his head only coming up to their chins. He put on fancy shoes though, that completed a very nice outfit. He wondered if he’d gotten dressed up for Eskild’s booty call, or if this was his standard attire. Eskild, in all black, led them out of the apartment.

Oliver took over once they were on the street, leading them to the bus stop and then on a short trip into the middle of the city. They walked a bit further after that, away from the tourist-y spots, to a small French café that surprised Even.

“Is it open?” It looked dark from the outside. If Even had ever walked past it, it made sense why he’d never seen it before.

“Yes, just very quiet.”

Inside it was dark and hushed. It seemed to lack the usual noises of a restaurant, as if everyone had agreed to keep it a secret even while they were inside. Oliver leaned in to greet the hostess with a kiss, and she showed them to a round table in the window. Eskild shifted his chair close to Oliver’s, and they sat across from Even.

An attractive waiter came over to pour glasses of water and take their drink orders, and Oliver asked for a couple of appetizers as well. He was hovering over Even’s shoulder, and when Even looked up he couldn’t look away. It was such an interesting angle to watch someone, especially while they talked. The waiter looked down, caught him staring, right before he left their table. He gave Even a small smirk as he turned away.

Eskild leaned in to whisper, which was unusual for him but appropriate for their location. “I don’t think he’s on the menu, Even.”

Oliver leaned in as well. “Are you interested though? I could be discreet.”

“He has a very long neck.” Even blurted out the only thing occupying his mind at the moment. This made Oliver laugh.

“You’d make a good match.”

Eskild cleared his throat. “How’s Isak?”

Isak! Oh god. He’d gotten a text from him but forgot about it almost immediately. He fumbled for his coat pocket down the side of his chair and fished out his phone. Eskild sat back and Oliver joined him. They shared a silent look of understanding.

_Did I miss you?_

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“Shit. I was supposed to go to the museum.” Even ran a hand through his hair. Did he tell Isak he would be there? He’d been expecting him for his usual visit though. He didn’t want to apologize, even though that’s what he should do. He felt like an apology would just piss Isak off.

_Got caught up with work. Eating dinner with Eskild now. Can I come over when I’m done?_

“Were you home all day?”

“Yeah, working on a new project. But maybe I’ll see him tonight.” Even glanced once more at his phone; Isak was typing. He turned it over while he focused on the menu.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. I wouldn’t have tried to, uh…”

Even waved Oliver’s apology away. “He’s not—“ He was interrupted by Eskild’s eye roll.

“They’re not _together_ but they’ve been seeing each other for a while now. Usually Even is at Isak’s apartment, Isak who is not his boyfriend, blah blah blah, I’m bored.”

Oliver sent Eskild an eye roll of his own. “You’re the last one who should be throwing shade about commitment issues.”

“Excuse me, I don’t have commitment _issues_. I know exactly what, and who, the fuck I’m doing. He’s the one who is in love with his fuck buddy.” Eskild pointed at Even as if he were accusing him of a crime.

“There’s nothing wrong with falling in love with a fuck buddy,” Oliver calmly observed while he took a sip of water.

“I guess not, but I can’t imagine the kind of whiplash Isak is feeling.”

Even grimaced. “I’m trying to get better.” Reminded of his tendency to ghost Isak, both on purpose and by accident, he checked his phone.

_You fucking better._

His grimace turned into a small smile, which Eskild picked up on. “You’re forgiven, then?”

“In the very least he’ll let me into the apartment to explain.”

“So that’s a no on getting the waiter’s number then.” Another calm observation from Oliver.

Even laughed. He liked Oliver. He had a subtle confidence that Even hadn’t picked up on when they first met. He was glad he’d made it back into Eskild’s rotation, and that he was seeing more than just Eskild’s bed. “Not for me, thanks. But I’m sure Eskild wouldn’t say no to another number.” He sent Eskild a challenge right back.

Eskild pursed his lips and looked off to the side, trying to ignore the truth of Even’s claim. Oliver laughed too, at Eskild’s non-response.

“Just for that I’m going to make _you_ get his number.” Oliver poked Eskild in the chest. Eskild let out a small gasp.

“Tonight? Right in front of you?”

“I’m quite familiar with the magic you worked on me. I want to see how it looks on someone else.”

“You are a brave, brave man.”

“I know. It’s why I’m here.”

The waiter returned with their drinks. If he made eyes at Even he didn’t see them, because Even was settling in to watch Eskild get to work. It had been a while since he’d witnessed the magic himself, and the added audience only upped the stakes. Both Oliver and Even had leaned back to give Eskild more room to lean in. The show was about to start.

* * *

Isak greeted him in the hallway in a very tiny pair of low-rise red briefs. His hands were in fists resting on his hips, and it was impossible to look at anything but his bulge. Even had to swallow a lump in his throat before he could say hi. Ophelia trotted around the scantily-clad fuckbuddy to sniff his much more clothed crotch.

“My dog apparently does not know how to give the cold shoulder when she’s been snubbed.”

Even dropped to a squat, unable to handle the subtle accusation combined with the intensity of Isak’s stare. He spoke to Ophelia. “I didn’t mean to snub you, baby. I just got wrapped up at work and I wasn’t checking my phone.” He dropped a kiss on top of her muzzle. He could sense Isak softening at the explanation when his hands dropped from his hips. Even dared to look up, and force his gaze higher than Calvin Klein’s name.

“I thought you would have off on Tuesday. You wanted to see the new exhibit.”

“I do. I was at home but I was working, and I get in these zones sometimes where I just keep going.” He stood, and heard his knees crack as he went. Isak had softened, but didn’t betray any other emotion for Even to interpret. He needed something, some kind of cue, to know if he should take off his coat, his clothes, or leave Isak and his underwear alone.

“Are you going to the office tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

“If you can handle it.”

Isak cocked an eyebrow. His hands went back to his hips. “Handle _what_?”

That was his cue. Even shrugged off his coat and left his boots next to Isak’s. Ophelia moved out of his way as he walked up to Isak, but Isak began a retreat as well. “You know…when I get in the zone.”

Isak’s squeaky laugh filled the hallway. Even watched his body undulate as he walked backward. His thighs swelled and abs flashed their ridges. He got his fill with his eyes until it wasn’t enough. Outside the bathroom he reached forward, hoping to hook a finger into the Calvins. Isak hopped and turned to make a thorough escape.

Even passed Ophelia as she was leaving the bedroom and he was entering it. Isak was by his desk looking at his phone, which was plugged in for charging. “Look what I found.” Even walked to Isak’s side and finally got a grip on Isak’s waistband. He gave it a small tug, then paid attention to Isak’s phone.

“Oh my god.” He grabbed the phone with his free hand. “Are you kidding me?” It was the photo of Ophelia in the pool, gazing blankly at the sky. Even zoomed in and scrolled back and forth between the dog and the painting, a giggle growing as the similarities melted into a single mental image. “Oh my god.”

“And _that_ is why she’s named Ophelia.”

“I guess if you’re only able to have one good photo of your dog, that’s a pretty fucking great one. Can I send it to myself?” Even freed his other hand to set up the message, not waiting for Isak’s permission. He laughed, still, and laughed some more when the photo reached his phone and he opened it on that screen. “Fuck. How is she not a meme?” It was a rhetorical question, but he still looked for Isak’s response. He’d moved to the other side of the bed. Even noticed the rumpled covers on that side, as if Isak had already been tucked in before he’d arrived. His laugh faded. “Were you sleeping?”

“Just resting. Long day.”

He could see the tiredness in Isak’s body then, how round his shoulders were as he pulled the comforter back a bit further. Even unplugged Isak’s phone and carried it to his side of the bed. He tossed it into the space Isak was about to climb into. “Do you want to talk about it? Or do other things about it?” His hands were back on Isak’s waist. Those shoulders rose with a deep breath and then fell. Even nudged Isak to turn and face him.

Isak looked at Even’s collarbone. “Would it be weird if I told you I missed you?” He slid his hands up the front of Even’s shirt and started undoing the buttons. Even felt like Isak was trying to distract him from the very question he’d just asked. He watched the fingers move while he tried to figure out how to answer it. But then he gave up and didn’t answer it.

“I missed you.”

The fingers stopped. “Really?”

Even nodded, then pulled Isak into him, into an embrace, so he didn’t have to look at him either. He could say it over his shoulder, into his hair. “I was so busy, but I was thinking about you constantly.” He felt Isak return the embrace, squeezing out the emotions they’d been holding onto in each other’s absence. “I could see you, and I could draw you, but I was a fool to think that was enough.” Even tilted his head so his lips could press against Isak’s ear, just in case he hadn’t heard his words. He made sure Isak felt them.

Even heard Isak make tiny hums of contentment, and it was almost as thrilling, knowing Isak was as happy to be in his arms as he was in his, as the fact that he was hugging a perfectly nude man. He was probably completely nude before, but that underwear was actually doing wonders for Even’s imagination, and that was slightly more appealing. Even tried to reel in his imagination though, because Isak was still hugging him tight, not making a move toward humping Even nor pushing him away. As excited as he was to be in that position, as confident as he felt in Isak’s arms, Even still didn’t want to take the lead. He didn’t want to lead Isak down a path he didn’t want to take, especially if it was the one he knew he was heading down himself. He kissed Isak’s ear, then Isak’s neck. He tried to kiss those thoughts away, and listen for Isak’s own.

Instructions came shortly thereafter. “Take off your clothes. Sleep with me. Fuck me twice in the morning.”

* * *

Isak fell asleep complaining about his boss. Geir. At first he was complaining about someone else, someone French, but then he seemed to talk himself to a moment of clarity, and that quickly put him to sleep, as an untroubled mind tends to do. Even shifted in close and kept running his fingers through the curls at Isak’s hairline. He pulled them out and watched them spring back, then he combed them back into the waves they usually were in. He looked at the color of each strand and filled a gradient palette with them. Then he had to get up.

Ophelia woke up and followed him through Isak’s apartment. He had to find a pencil, and paper. She was no help, except to be in the way when he spun around and changed course suddenly, nearly tripping over her in the dark. He opened all of the drawers in the kitchen hoping for something that didn’t actually belong there, but Isak was organized enough to be no help either. Eventually he found a pen in the living room, and then he went back to the bedroom and swiped the piece of paper with the hands sketched on it from the desk. He returned to the bed in the dark.

Isak mumbled something when he felt the added weight of both Even and Ophelia, but he didn’t seem to wake up. Even got comfortable lying opposite Isak, his head near Isak’s knees. He pulled his pillow down to support himself under his armpit, and Ophelia took up the now empty space near Isak’s face. Even had to bend his own knees to fit his legs against Ophelia’s. There was barely any light at this hour, nor a hard surface to press against. This was going to be a challenge.

Isak woke up enough to shove Ophelia’s nose away from his face. That’s when he noticed Even’s knees. He lifted his head. “Eh?”

“Go back to sleep. I just want to draw you.”

Isak gave him a soft snort, but settled back into his pillow. “Is that all?”

“For now.”

Even rested the paper on his forearm, similar to how he would prop up his pad sometimes. He dusted the page with the pen, getting a feel for the ink flow. Then he started shading in the shadows, the soft curves of the bedding and the sharp planes of the face that jutted above its surface. The man was an island in a sea of cotton, carved stone that warmed beneath an unseen sun.

* * *

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he had rolled over and bent the piece of paper under his arm. When he woke up he pulled it out from under him and tried to flatten it against his chest. This woke Ophelia, who was still tucked against his shins, and her huff woke up Isak. “What time is it?”

Even sat up and twisted forward to the bedside table, to reach his phone. “Almost six. You should get a clock.”

Isak twisted up a smile. “Why bother when I have you?”

“Ah yes, my true calling.” Even fell backward again. Ophelia hadn’t moved, and was quietly watching them, so they took advantage of the calm. Isak pulled an arm out from under the blanket and ran his hand up and down Even’s thigh. Even picked up the paper and found the pen in the sheets; he tossed them over the side of the bed so he could roll closer to Isak’s body. He didn’t realize how cold he was until he rested his head on Isak’s knee and could feel the warmth just from that bony touch. He snuggled into it, trying not to kick Ophelia as he moved.

They looked at each other and rubbed each other, innocent but caring, and let their own thoughts run wild for a minute before releasing them into battle. Even struck first. “Why are you single?”

Isak’s whole head disappeared when he threw it back with a loud laugh. Even reached out to press down on the blanket, to make sure he didn’t lose him.

“That’s an amazing thing to ask the guy you’re fucking. The guy whose bed you are lying in right now.” The boom of Isak’s laugh settled down to its usual squeak.

Even carefully combed a single hair on Isak’s thigh and plucked it in retaliation. “You know I’m not trying to insult you. I know why _I'm_ single. Why do you choose to be single as well?”

Isak pulled his leg away but immediately returned it to Even’s touch. He sat up halfway, propping himself up on his elbows. “I thought it was the best way to go about…life. I was prioritizing. I wasn’t partying, I was networking. School, career, independence. I was focusing on those, and the men could come and go as they pleased. As long as they didn’t get in the way of my work.”

“Do you think you’ll stay single?”

Isak shrugged as much as he could in that position. “I’m not like…desperate to get married or whatever. I’m comfortable where I am, and not to brag, but there will always be men available to me. That’s the easy part. I can’t just swipe right on another senior curator job or slide into the DMs of an affordable apartment.”

Even nodded. It made sense. He envied Isak a bit, in how much of his single life was planned and on purpose. Lying in bed with him was the goal, not a halfway step or a compromise. As curious as he was about Isak’s motives, he didn’t want to dwell on them, especially when they made him think of his own. “So…I’m easy?”

Isak pulled his pillow from behind him and whipped it at Even. “Actually, you _are_. You walked right into my fucking office. But don’t even try to turn this on me because you _want_ to be easy.”

Even held up his hands in a small surrender. The pillow had hit kind of hard, and Isak was speaking the truth. “I do.”

“I want easy. You want to _be_ easy. We’re perfect for each other.”

When Isak collapsed backward, Ophelia finally lifted her head. She evaluated the bed situation, and once she decided they’d been making enough noise, she stood up. “What time is it?” he asked again.

“Time to get a clock.” Even kicked up his legs, narrowly missing the dog, and threw them over his head in an awkward somersault out of bed. This was entertaining to watch for both Isak and Ophelia.

“Are you going to walk her then?”

Even righted himself and walked around to Isak’s side of the bed. He held out his hand. “I don’t know her route. You’ll have to come with me.”

Isak groaned and pulled his comforter over his head. Even pawed at it until he was exposed again. “You’re worse than Ophelia.” The dog was now waiting patiently by the bedroom door, her morning duties being handled by Even quite well.

“The sooner we walk, the sooner we fuck.”

Isak hopped out of bed.


	23. Even

They crashed through the door faster than Ophelia. Even had been trying to tug down Isak’s sweatpants ever since they got into his building, but ironically his erection was holding them up. As soon as the door was closed he made a proper effort and the grey material slipped down to Isak’s ankles. Isak almost tripped over his feet thanks to the sudden obstruction. “Oi! Go feed the dog.”

Even jumped at the command. He kicked off his boots and unzipped his coat as he went to the kitchen. Ophelia followed. He was so rushed in his scooping that some of the kibble spilled across the floor, but Ophelia cleaned up after him, chasing her breakfast with the same hunger that Even chased Isak. He left her to it, and retraced his steps to pick up his coat. He was delighted to find Isak’s sweatpants next to it. Then he heard his next command: “Couch!” His dick twitched at the firm tone; Isak might as well have told him to come.

And the sight of Isak kneeling, stripped back down to his red underwear, on the leather couch, almost made him do just that.

“I believe…this is what you’ve been looking for for the past hour?” Isak gave a little shake and twist of his hips as he flaunted his package. Even stepped right up to him, finally getting a proper handful and declaring victory.

“More like for my whole life.” Even ran his hands from Isak’s hips up his sides, over his shoulders, along his neck, and cupped Isak’s jaw. He pulled his face up into a consuming kiss, breathing in the small gasp Isak had let out at his line. Isak’s own hands held his in place, his fingers curling around Even’s wrists. They both agreed that this kiss should last as long as possible. They closed their eyes and relaxed into it, sure that they wanted nothing else.

Until Isak started rubbing his stomach against Even’s crotch. Then Isak mumbled a list of demands. “Condoms. Lube.”

“Bedroom?” Even finally pulled away enough to ask.

“No, you’re going to fuck me right here.”

“Great.” With a wink and a smile he dashed off to the bedroom to fetch supplies. He grabbed a handful of condoms, a mix, the lube and poppers, in case Isak felt like returning the fuck. He could probably handle Isak’s dick without them but they were fun nonetheless. Even was ready for some fun.

Isak was still kneeling when he returned, but facing the other way, resting his arms on the back of the couch. Isak was staring at Ophelia, who was sitting in the doorway to the kitchen, and staring right back at him. “This is going to be awkward. Ophelia, go.” Isak pointed to the hallway. She didn’t move.

“You ever have sex in front of her?”

“No. And usually she’s the one avoiding it. I don’t know why she’s sticking around.”

“Maybe she doesn’t think we’re going to have sex?” As he suggested the explanation he dropped the supplies onto the couch and started peeling off Isak’s underwear. He gave a light slap at Isak’s exposed cheek; perhaps the sound of skin on skin would be the right cue.

Ophelia slid her front paws out instead, lowering herself to the ground and resting her head on the floor.

“Great,” Isak grumbled. He started to move to stand up, to handle the situation, but Even got a grip on his hips and held him in place. “Come on, Even, I don’t want to make eye contact with my dog while I’m getting fucked.”

Even pressed into Isak’s back, and brought his mouth to Isak’s ear. One hand went back up under Isak’s jaw again, and pushed his chin up toward the ceiling. He could feel Isak swallow against his palm. “Then don’t.” He held Isak’s head in place for a second longer, until he could trust that Isak wouldn’t move. Then he slowly dragged his fingers from his throat down his chest, drawing a straight, slow line to Isak’s cock. He wrapped his hand around his heavy erection and pulled it up in another straight, slow line. He watched Isak breathe and swallow against the tug.

Then he moved quickly. He peeled Isak’s underwear down to his knees and nudged him to lift his legs, one by one, to free himself completely. He spread Isak’s discarded t-shirt below them. Lube was drizzled at the top of his crack, and while gravity did its job, he stripped out of his jeans and rolled on a condom. He was shaking slightly at the rush, the need to go faster and the awareness that he’d never be fast enough. He wet his own finger in his mouth before spreading Isak’s cheeks and finishing the lube application. Isak arched his back into the tender touch but kept his head tilted up. “Good boy.”

It was so hot seeing how Isak responded to him. He paused for a second to appreciate it, the sight of Isak waiting for him, waiting for the next word or touch, bound by nothing but his desire to do what Even wanted him to do. He would reward him in return. Good boys get treats.

Even slid his finger in, slowly. Isak moaned, low and loud. It sounded more like the sound a body would make even if it didn’t have a voice, just a rumble, a frequency. It was deep and heavy enough to warn Ophelia away. As she scrambled out of the room Isak let his head drop. He pushed back on Even’s finger.

If he had time he would’ve drawn this out. He would have played with Isak’s asshole, found his spot, teased it. He would’ve added more fingers and worked the muscle until he was outright begging for more, ready for more. But Even couldn’t handle it himself. He couldn’t wait any longer. He ignored the gasp when he pulled out his finger and didn’t give Isak a moment to recover before replacing it with his dick. Even grabbed his hips and thrust forward.

“Fuck! You, holy shit Even, fuck.” Isak didn’t extract himself off of Even’s impalement, but he did twist his torso around to slap Even’s chest. “You have to be more careful with that thing, jesus. Give me a minute.”

Even paused. He tried to think about how good this felt, instead of how much better it was going to feel, to anchor him to the moment and let Isak catch up. Isak settled his glare on Even, then twisted back around, finding a comfortable position on his forearms and relaxing his back, his ass. He gave himself a little pep talk, some grunts and hums and yeses that also provided a beat to start rocking to. Once Even had permission from Isak’s movements to add his own thrusts back into the mix, he prepared his position. He pushed Isak’s knees out to the side a bit and gripped higher on his waist. “I’m going to fuck you.” It was a command, but it gave Isak the chance to respond, to correct him. Instead he just got a squeeze, and Isak’s head dropped again. They were off.

Isak didn’t have much of a waist. His body didn’t shrink as Even’s eyes traveled down from his shoulders. He had well-formed muscles, obliques popping under Even’s hands as Isak added some rotation to the way he was bouncing on Even’s dick. His torso was a thick rectangle, which made the roundness of his ass, when it sloped up so suddenly, a nice surprise. It cushioned his thrusts well. If he could remember it later, he’d need to add it to his game. He’d been focusing too much on the grass, and the ass was probably lacking. He might not be able to replicate exactly what it felt like to be buried inside Isak’s ass, but he could program the indentations of the skin when he squeezed his glutes. Even ran his hands over his butt as if to map its topography, logging the changes between mid-dick insertion and just the tip.

“Even, Even, please.” Isak’s begging snapped him to attention, to the fact that the body beneath him was not something he was trying to render digitally in that exact moment. He was fucking him. How he’d managed to zone out while balls deep, he didn’t know.

“Baby.”

“Touch me. I’m so close.”

Even’s hand slipped down, sliding along the other abdominals that were now damp with sweat. He cupped Isak’s dick, then formed a fist around the shaft, so as he fucked Isak Isak could fuck his hand. He was hunched over, but he kept up the pace, the trance-like thrusting that turned Isak’s whimpers into wails.

“Right there. Yes. Like th-that. Fuck. Shit shit shit Eveennnnnnnnn.”

Isak froze when his orgasm peaked, so Even had to move his hand to keep up the strokes on his dick, but this meant both of them were shooting blind. Isak’s cum hit his t-shirt, the couch cushion in front of them, and his own heaving chest, not like Isak noticed. Even was just thrusting and stroking and trying to hold steady against the shuddering body beneath him.

“Shit, Even. Stop.” Isak’s forehead was pressed to the top of the couch, and his hand grabbed at the wrist that was still jerking his dick.

Even froze. “Are you okay?”

Isak managed to lift his head. “Fucking fabulous.”

They listened to Isak’s breathing return to the neighborhood of normal. Even tried to slowly pull out but that just sent another wave of aftershocks through Isak. He growled at the overstimulation and involuntarily squeezed Even’s dick the rest of the way out. Isak fell forward once he was free but almost instantly popped back up again. “Fuck.” He reached down for his t-shirt and wiped up wherever he’d sprayed before it transferred anywhere else. Then he smoothly twisted around and collapsed onto the couch. Even’s dick bobbed in front of his face. He sighed, then rolled off the condom and wiped his cock down with a couple of gentle tugs. “I’d ask what time it is but if you tell me then I’ll just figure how fast this fucker makes me cum.” Another sigh. “And I don’t think I want to know that.”

Even smirked and jutted his hips out, a victory lap for his dick.

Isak caught it in his hands. “You still need to come.”

“You up for it?” Even nodded his head at the pile of condoms to his right.

“Sure, just don’t squeeze my dick off.”

“No promises.”

Isak reached to his left to pick out one of his condoms. Then he handed Even the lube. In the interest of time Even didn’t bother with the poppers. He just slicked up his fingers and rushed through the prep he’d completely forgone for Isak. As he did this, and watched Isak roll on his own protection, he did the same thing he’d done the other day, comparing the first time he’d stood over Isak, his finger in his ass, with now. How different Isak looked, how different Even felt. They both had more confidence, and their speed, this time, was born of that, instead of nervousness. He loved the change. He loved that he could see it in both of them. He loved that he had managed to hang around long enough to witness it. Or rather, he loved that Isak had held onto him long enough to do so. His appreciation bubbled up inside, mixing in with the excitement and anticipation, until it spilled over. Even pulled out his fingers and wiped them on the t-shirt. He was ready to make his declaration.

“You’re perfect. We’re perfect.”

Isak laughed while he applied lube to his own cock. “Didn’t we establish that in bed earlier?” When Even didn’t answer, he looked up, and saw how serious Even was being, how he was waiting for a serious response. “Um. Yeah. I think…this is great.”

Even jumped on it. On him. He straddled Isak’s legs and trapped his hand beneath his crotch. “It is!”

“Even.” Isak wiggled his hand free and adjusted them slightly so it was more comfortable.

“It is. You were right.”

“Well, thank you. Do…do you want to talk about it or should we do the sex thing?”

“I don’t know if there’s anything to talk about. I just wanted you to know how great you are and that I’m very happy with you. Or not _with_ you. Just…on your lap. Whatever level of relationship this is.” Even ground his ass into Isak’s dick to denote the level.

Isak laughed again, but it carried a nervous shake with it. “Flip fucks are _quite_ the commitment.”

Even though he was trying to joke, Even was ready to commit. He lifted himself onto his knees and reached back for Isak’s dick. He had to give it a few tugs, as the interlude seemed to have softened him a bit. While his hand was busy he dipped his face to meet Isak’s, trapping him with a kiss and pulling his head up by his mouth. 

“Mmmm.”

Even relaxed. He lined up Isak’s dick and slowly dropped onto it, easing himself back into Isak’s lap. He sat there for a bit, getting used to feeling full, and not wanting to stop kissing. He rested his arms on Isak’s shoulders, letting his hands hang over the back of the couch. This was how they’d started kissing, how they’d started fucking. Look how far they’d come. Look how good it had been from the beginning.

Dare he say it? Again? Perfect.

* * *

He rode Isak so slowly that they were both pouring sweat by the time Even came, spilling cum into the rivers that were already sliding down Isak’s belly. Once he did, he didn’t stop, either. They sat there and kissed until Isak softened completely and slipped out. Along with the mess on his belly, the couch was slippery and sticky with the mixture of fluids. If they wanted to get up it would be a struggle.

“Time?” Isak managed to say into Even’s mouth. But Even didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to open his eyes or let go of Isak’s neck. He didn’t want a single brain cell thinking about anything other than Isak. Certainly not about something like _time_.

“Even. We have—“ Isak pulled his head back, his lips free. “We have to go to work. We have to shower.”

Even whimpered while Isak physically lifted him off of his legs. He fell to the side instead of standing up. “We can call in sick. Call in dick.”

“As much as I want to laugh at that, I can’t. I have tours today.” When Isak was free of Even and stood up, he hopped around. “Shit, my legs fell asleep.”

Even reached out a hand to grab Isak’s bouncing butt. “Go shower. I’ll clean up.” He was probably leaking more as he lounged there. Knowing how tidy Isak usually was, the mess on the couch was clearly his responsibility.

“Thank you.” Isak bent down, still stepping in place, to drop a kiss on Even’s head. “Just use some soap and water from the kitchen, please.” Even reached a bit further to give him a little spank, and Isak hopped away. “Join me when you’re done!”

Even hopped up too. He went to the kitchen and found a couple of dishtowels to employ. He pumped some soap from the dispenser at the sink and ran the water warm. He heard Isak start the shower in the bathroom. The promise of Isak, still naked and even more wet, sent a thrill through him, and he rushed back to the couch. He swiped away the cum and lube and sweat then did his best to dry the dark circles on the cushions.

Ophelia appeared at his side, sniffing. “Please don’t lick this Ophes. I wouldn’t, which is saying something.” He picked up the condoms before the dog got into them. Those and the dirtied towels went back to the kitchen where he disposed of the rubbers and did his best to rinse the towels out. They definitely needed to be properly washed, but they were too wet to sit in Isak’s hamper now. He draped them over the edge of the sink and hoped he’d remember to fetch them later. Ophie followed him as he went back to couch to scoop up the unused supplies, then to the bedroom, then to the bathroom. “Sorry Ophie, I don’t think you want to see this either.” He shut the door in her face.

“What?” Isak yelled over the curtain. Even whipped it aside.

“Had to shun the dog.”

Isak wiped water out of his eyes, then shifted to welcome Even into the stall. “Ugh. What a thirsty bitch.”

Even laughed. “How are you doing on time?” He dipped his head under the water. Isak squeezed out some shampoo and began a lather for him.

“Not as bad as I thought.”

“So we could do…this?” While Isak was occupied with Even’s head, Even reached his hands around to his ass, his fingers dancing at his hole. Isak automatically clenched at the touch.

“Ungh. What…exactly is _this_?”

“I was supposed to fuck you twice.”

Isak slicked back Even’s hair, wiping soapsuds off of his forehead. He was looking at Even, touching him, but seemed to be thinking about something else. He bit his lip. “Can you pull out?”

Even immediately extracted his fingers, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Ahhh, fuck, I mean…your dick.” Isak gave said dick a squeeze, a hint of pain to match what Even had just done. “Fuck me but pull out before you come.”

Even’s erection surged to its full length. “Bare,” he choked out.

“Yes.”

“I’ll do whatever you want. I can do whatever you want. Anything.” Even was desperate to communicate that it wasn’t his dick saying this, despite the fact that it was throbbing in Isak’s hand at that very moment. “I mean it, anything. Baby. I can get a condom. I can wait until we’re done. I can—“

“No, Even. I want this.” Isak let go of him and turned away. He placed his hands on the cool tile, slightly above his head. He spoke to the wall. “Fuck me now.”

Something inside Even collapsed, fell away. He didn’t know what it was. But suddenly he felt light, nearly weightless. Similar to the bubbles from before, except he knew he had nothing to say at this point. Isak had made his demands clear. Even pressed the handle of the shower into the wall, cutting off the water. He stepped up to Isak’s back. He held his waist with the tips of his fingers and kissed his shoulder. “It will be perfect,” he promised.

And it was.

Isak was still loose, and ready. Even added a little bit of lube from the fancy bottle. He slipped in slow, only using as much pressure as Isak wanted, as Isak liked, when Even was behind him. They whispered sexy things to each other over Isak’s left shoulder, declarations of desire peppered with wet kisses. Even made long, thorough strokes, brushing up against Isak’s prostate and making his thighs shake. Even held Isak steady at his waist, then his chest, then ran his hands up Isak’s arms to cover the splay of his hands with his own.

Even wasn’t going to come. He was too focused on doing this right, giving Isak exactly what he wanted. He knew he could do it too; he could completely ignore his own pleasure in sacrifice of something else, of someone else, of anything. He did it many times. In a way it was his true pleasure, what he indulged in, though there was never any climax. So: perfect.

He fucked Isak until he came, splashing another load onto the wall. He stopped as soon as he felt the orgasm, as soon as Isak lost control of his muscles, flexing and trembling and weak. He stayed inside Isak, knowing he posed no threat, and waited for him to come back to earth. Then he wrapped one arm across Isak’s chest and pulled him upright, close. He held onto him and steadied him against the shock of the water. His other hand blindly navigated the shower handle, and then the warm spray rained down on their rapidly cooling bodies. 

Everything washed away.

* * *

He wore some of Isak’s clothes to work. He enjoyed selecting an outfit alongside Isak at his closet, and using him as a mirror to evaluate the fit. He trusted Isak’s opinion, even in light of their morning activities, because honesty usually won out over orgasms between them. They got dressed, made out in the hallway for a few minutes while they were putting on their coats, and then broke apart on the sidewalk. With his clothes though, Even felt like he was carrying Isak to work with him.

He stayed with Isak for the first couple of hours at his desk. He didn’t have his latest files for the game he was designing, as they were still on the flash drive at home, but he did what he could to catch up. He remembered the work he wanted to do on Isak’s ass. He happily pulled up some models that had been done for another particularly well-endowed character in a different game and imported them. It felt like he’d discovered a secret shortcut on the rainbow road. He started sorting through his archives to see if there were any other models he could use. Shit, why didn’t he think of this earlier?

“New project?” When Even looked up, Kirsti was leaning against his doorframe. She was carrying her tablet. She nodded at the computer whose screen was facing the door. “You extended your display.”

Even jumped up to confirm. “Oh shit, that’s where my windows went.”

“Someone walked by and said you were staring at bouncing butts, so I had to see. Maybe I’d missed something from our notes.” As she teased, Even dragged the files and programs that he’d opened back to his main monitor.

“I’m working on a character for another game.”

“Freelance?”

“No, just personal.” He didn’t close out of it, but he did shut down the other displays. The whole office didn’t need to see Isak’s ass. At least not without clothes.

“That’s cool. Appreciate the attention to detail. Anyway, I also got a demo of that upcoming supernatural western puzzle. Want to play during lunch?”

“Oh man, really? From who?”

“Just someone I met, on my last trip to California. He probably wasn’t supposed to send it but…” Kirsti smirked, referencing some of her other skills.

“Nice. Yeah, definitely. Everyone keeps talking about those environments but I’ve only seen the five press stills.”

“They’re bonkers. They had a whole team taking video and drones out in the desert. It’s basically AR.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I’ll be back in like an hour?”

“Great.” Even waved her off. He set that as a deadline for himself: he’d keep working on Isak’s game until lunch, then play with Kirsti, then actually work on the game he was being paid for. He could probably accomplish as much as he usually did in a full day anyway, considering how fast he was progressing with Isak.

* * *

Kirsti loaded the game onto one of the consoles in his office and they played through lunch. It slowly evolved into an actual meeting to discuss their own game, picking up details and tricks from the demo to try to copy, things they liked or simply noticed during play. By the time she went back to her own station it was almost time to go home. Even loaded up another flash drive with his progress files and called it a day.

The skies had been clear all day, so the sun had spent its few hours melting away most of the new snow. Even decided to walk home, to stretch his legs. He thought about meeting Isak for Ophelia’s evening walk, perhaps surprising him on his route. He wasn’t completely sure about the exact path, but he could probably loop back and wait at a café he recognized until they passed by. He immediately changed his course.

He bought a cup of tea and sat down for about five minutes, keeping his eyes glued to the view of the sidewalk. He was not the only one who thought it would be nice to walk home that day, and there was a bit of foot traffic. His eyes jumped from person to person, confirming they weren’t Isak and then logging each one into a diary of the commute. None of them had a dog in tow though. Just a lot of tote bags.

Halfway through his tea he went across the street. There was an art supply store, and he had a new plan for his grass. It was actually pretty inspiring playing that demo this afternoon, and he had a new angle to take the environment design for Isak’s game. Where he was going for accuracy and realism in the character, he thought it would be a nice juxtaposition to play him in a hand-painted set. It had been a while since he’d painted, and he’d probably need some practice canvases too. He started a list in his head while he crossed the street. Prussian. Sap. Isak? Cadmium. What about sable brushes? Not Isak.

A bell rang when he entered. The shop looked empty. He went directly to the back wall, where canvases were lined up in cubbyholes from floor to ceiling. Oh, he would need solvent too. An attendant met him at the wall, eager to help her only customer, but Even knew what he was doing. He declined the handbasket she offered for easy shopping. “I’m going to pull what I need. Could you just stack it all at the register? And if you have a spare box I could use to carry it all home in that would be great.” To start, he handed her his cup. Then he reached toward the sky.

* * *

“Even?” Eskild knocked, then poked his head in. “It smells—Oh.”

Even was sitting on his bed, painting a canvas in his lap. He’d forgotten an easel. “Hey!”

“You’re painting.”

“Yeah. Working on some grass for my game.”

“Looks…good. Hey, maybe you should open a window or something. I could smell…whatever this is as soon as I got into the apartment.”

“It’s cold out though.”

“Yes, but…I think that might be better than burning all of your nostril hairs. And mine.” Even wasn’t moving, so Eskild entered the room and went straight for the window. He unlocked it and cracked it just enough for some air flow. He returned to the doorway and watched Even for a bit.

“Were you working tonight?”

“Yeah, they begged me to come in because they booked a private party and Ole bailed. I got paid double though, which was nice.”

Even gave him a thumbs up, which was a gesture he hadn’t done in a while. He looked at his thumb like it wasn’t his own, then went back to painting.

“Okay, so…I’m going to go to bed. You should probably get some sleep too. Or not. Maybe wait until your room airs out a bit. Then sleep. Yeah.” Eskild lingered by the door, then left, leaving it open for Even’s safety.

* * *

The next time Even looked at his clock, he was running late. He hopped off the bed, spilling some more solvent, and cursed up a storm. He was more careful with his canvas, adding it to the three others he’d completed, lined up and leaning against his TV to dry. They looked good. He wanted to export his game and throw it on the screen to see just how Isak would look against the paintings, but he truly didn’t have time. He couldn’t even shower. He changed his clothes though, leaving Isak’s in a pile on the floor. Then he opened his window the rest of the way, flicked out his blanket so the solvent would evaporate faster, and grabbed the two flash drives that his designs were currently split between. He ran to work, figuring he could go faster than the bus.

The whole way he thought about the game. It felt like he was at his computer, in his head. He went through each step he wanted to take and could see how Isak would be transformed once he made them. When he got to work he immediately plugged in the flash drives and rushed through everything he’d just mapped out, too excited to think about anything else. He didn’t see Tor’s email until Tor was at his door, asking him about it.

“Even, could we chat?”

“Oh, hey. Uh, sure. Let me just….” Even quickly saved all of his progress.

“Have you logged in yet?”

“Um, no. I just wanted to finish up this other thing while I was in the zone, then I was going to catch up.” He stood and walked to the door, ready to follow Tor back to his office.

“Ah, sorry to interrupt then. But I just want to make sure you aren’t missing a few things.”

Even got worried then, because that meant he _had_ been missing things. He wished he could go back and check his inbox really quick before Tor’s confrontation, but he’d left his phone on his desk too.

“Take a seat.” Tor’s office was comfortable. He too had large displays ready for multiple gaming systems. He always had one of his creations running in a custom auto mode for display and impromptu demonstrations. On the screen now was an undersea adventure where you had to accomplish tasks to help you build your ship, letting you explore deeper and deeper as you made enhancements. Even had tried to play it once but couldn’t get past the anglerfish level. A darker depth floated in the background of their meeting. Even sat.

“So, I had sent you a short list yesterday of a few projects I wanted an update on, both to see how you’re doing, and make sure the teams are as balanced as can be. Usually you’re pretty on top of responding, especially since you know I only need quick answers. You’re not the kind of person I need to follow up with, so it’s noticeable when you don’t respond, and that made me concerned that your workload was too heavy right now.”

“I don’t think it’s too heavy, I just was distracted for a bit.”

Tor nodded, accepting that explanation. “Sure, distractions happen. Let’s run through the stuff though, rapid fire.” Tor pulled up the email he’d sent Even yesterday and read off of the short list. Even gave the quick responses that Tor had wanted. He was on top of most of his projects actually, or not noticeably behind, though he did need to do some research on composers. “Because we decided we’d commission for that, yes?”

“Right, we budgeted for it.”

“Great. Definitely start shopping so we can avoid rush fees. And…obviously, get a decent soundtrack out of it.”

Tor took a deep breath. “So, the other reason I wanted these updates was because we are thiiiiiis close to landing a new client for a gaming suite, and I’d love to have you ready to jump on it as soon as we close. We were approached initially, and a majority of their references were games you worked on. They like your shit. We didn’t commit, of course, but it would be great to drop you into their laps as a dedicated project manager once the ink is dry.”

“Wow, yeah. That sounds awesome! I’m game.” Even giggled at his own pun, but tried to stifle it. This was a huge opportunity; he should be professional. Excited, but professional.

“Great. Yes, that’s great. I’m glad you’re interested. But um, in light of that deal, that future project, I wanted to ask you to…take some time off. In advance.” Tor was hesitant at first, then rushed through his request. “Everything seems to be on track, and your teams can continue with little oversight. I can be the point person when necessary. I’d like to send you home with a few limited tasks, such as hiring a composer, just to give you a break and make sure you’re…you’re in the clear. Ready to go when I pull you back in. You’ve been working pretty steadily for the past few months. I can’t remember the last time you took a real vacation, and I think this would be a good time to step away, before I _can't_ let you step away. We, the company, owe you that time anyway.”

Even’s excitement disappeared, evaporated into thin air. His spine became an icicle, growing stiff and frozen, as his whole body filled with tension. Tor saw this. He probably felt it in the room.

“I think this is why we have our unique arrangement, to give you the benefit of this flexibility. I don’t want to force this on you, but I think it’s for the best, for you, for our new client, and you’ve put in such great work so far that we can afford to have you step back for a little bit.”

Even had one question: “How long?”

“Let’s start with two weeks.”

That was Tor’s mistake, just starting with two weeks. That’s how Even knew all of this was bullshit. He played along though. It seemed like Tor had put a lot of thought and rehearsal into his explanation. “Two weeks.”

“Maybe even longer! I’m not sure how the actual negotiations go, and I’m definitely not going to have you start work on a deal that isn’t absolutely finalized. But we’ve always been flexible, and I really value that aspect of our relationship, and I’d like both of us to take advantage of that right now. You could use some time off, especially since you kept chugging along through the holidays, and...you deserve it.” Tor looked proud, like he believed he’d successfully pulled off the excuse, despite the chill of the room.

There was a truth to it, which is why Even was playing along. “A vacation sounds nice. A faux-cation.” He’d earned that time off from a very steady work schedule, so he was due these two weeks, if not more. But he was supposed to decide when he would take those. He was saving them for a real vacation, not an excuse to shove him out of the office. He wondered what had happened, what prompted Tor to make this disguised demand. “So, how much should I be taking with me? I’m assuming this is starting...now.”

“No rush, really, but why not? I’d say, continue working on those environments with Kirsti, line up a composer, and then do whatever else your heart desires. Maybe some of those butts that we all got a peek at the other day.” Tor winked, which somehow made Even more upset. How dare he try to joke about this. And yet Even laughed.

“I was going through some old designs and seeing what I could fit over my structures. Seemed a bit more efficient than starting from scratch, especially if I knew the size I needed.”

“Of course, of course. I’m just teasing you. It’s smart, especially since we pay so much money to keep everything archived. But uh, do you have everything you need at home? I can’t remember if you have a synced system.”

“I’m not synced, no, I have my own tech. But it’s enough to handle the smallest workload.”

He could finish the environments in a day or two, and finding a composer wouldn’t require any specialized work. This would probably be more of a vacation than the workload that people actually _do_ take on vacation.

“Okay. And...you know, you’re always welcome to come into the office if you need something, but I truly want you to take this time to focus on yourself, rest and refresh. I’ll need you in top form soon.” Tor winked again. Even couldn’t tell if he was winking to keep up the facade of this “vacation” and “future client” or if he was betraying himself. Maybe they both knew the truth and they both knew each other knew.

“Sure, sure. I’ll just go wrap some stuff up, finally answer those emails.”

“Yes. And if you’re sending any updates to your team, I wouldn’t mind being copied on those, just so everyone knows they can come to me with questions while you’re out. Again, you are welcome to keep them on task, but I also don’t want you spending this time as just a babysitter.”

Even laughed, but more at the irony of Tor calling him a babysitter. Tor was the babysitter, sending a child to his room for a time-out. But Even was a good charge, a good employee. He’d just do what anyone sent to a time-out would do: plot revenge. “Hands-off, I promise.” He stood up. “Thanks for pulling me aside, and keeping me in the loop about the new client. Good luck with finalizing everything.”

“Thank _you_ , Even. We wouldn’t be able to do it without your skills and understanding. You are a brilliant, critical part of this company and I want to make sure you stay that way.”

They both nodded at each other, finishing up their acts. Even flashed one more smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then he left.

* * *

Even sat on his couch. His thumb flicked through his contacts. The names and numbers blurred at the speed of the screen. He needed to scream at someone about Tor, about his vacation, but the only people he could scream at were both at work. He was upset, but he wasn’t rude. Or at least, he was trying not to be. Most of his contact list was people he hadn’t talked to in a very long time. No one he could call up and complain about his boss to. And this made him more upset. He blurred their names so he didn’t have to think about why he didn’t talk to them anymore. He texted Isak: _I need a punching bag._ But he didn’t get an immediate response. He went to the kitchen to get something to eat instead, to distract himself. Even retired to his room with a box of Noora’s cereal, from which he was grabbing handfuls and shoveling them into his mouth.

After he’d left work he came straight home. It was the middle of the afternoon, and Even felt like he had to fill the rest of his day, so he immediately returned to his painting. He’d managed to finish two more canvases of grass before his mind started wandering back to the meeting, back to his emails, back to the way he’d slipped out of the office like a secret. The few replies to his hasty departure were encouraging and reassuring, as everyone seemed more excited about his time off than Even. They echoed Tor: it was great that he was getting out, it was well-deserved, everything will be fine. He wasn’t expecting any other kind of response, but actually receiving it made him suspicious. It felt like the whole office was in on Tor’s plan, like this was a giant ruse for an intervention. Had there been an office-wide meeting while he was busy animating Isak’s ass, where they all agreed on this mysterious client as an excuse to send Even away? Whatever. He’d make that ass worth it. He’d spend his two weeks on whatever the fuck he wanted. He’ll finish his environments and then a whole new game on top of it, just to show them what they wasted.

He tossed the box of cereal on his unmade bed. He cleared a path through the piles of clothes that never made it to the washing machine. He’d take care of that next, he promised himself. After all, he had plenty of time. He just wanted to finish his paintings, then…oh shit, he needed the scanner at the office. Well, Tor said he could come back if he needed to. Once the paintings were dry he’d carry them over and get them scanned. Yes, great. He’ll finish the paintings tonight.

* * *

He didn’t go to the office on Friday. Early that morning he took a shower and made breakfast, taking a risk with some suspicious looking cheese. Then he took the bus to the museum. He arrived minutes after it opened, and smiled at his good fortune. He smiled even bigger when he saw Ed at the registers, and he was waved on into the museum without any action required. Ed would log a visit under Noora’s membership and the world would continue turning. Even went to the stairs and took them in long, excited strides.

He didn’t really have a plan, but he was motivated to accomplish…something. He wanted to see the new exhibit, and then he wanted to talk to Isak about it. Ideally he could do both at the same time, but he hadn’t reached out to book a personal tour. Maybe his luck would keep going and Isak would be wandering through on his own, just like he’d been when they first met. Even’s heart skipped a beat when he thought about it, that first sight, their slow dance around the room. When he played it back in his head it had a soundtrack and soft focus; as tense and strange as it had actually been, now it played back cinematically, full of romantic notes that would be recognizable to anyone. It would be a nice surprise for them both, if he were already there. And then Even would know just how lucky he was.

Isak wasn’t there, but Even was still surprised. The walls that had popped up in place of his statues, turning the rooms into hallways, towered over him. The paintings they held were impressive, but the walls themselves were impossible. He circled them in each room, running his hands along the painted surfaces.

“Excuse me sir,” a small, soft voice appeared at his shoulder. Even turned around once he realized it was directed at him. “Could you please step back from the art?” The older woman took a step backward to demonstrate what he should do. He copied her. “Thank you.”

“I was just admiring the walls. They’re new.”

“Oh. Yes. Well, still…the art should remain untouched and I’m afraid your hands were a little too close. Humans, we’re a bit dangerous.”

Even laughed. He understood what she meant, as she wiggled her fingers, but the sentence itself sounded so much heavier than she intended. He took another step back to appease her. Sylvie gave him an appreciative smile and returned to her chair. Even was careful to maintain a radius between him and the art and the walls. He paused to text Isak: _Nice walls._ Then he moved on to the next room.

He paid more attention to the art, once he got over the walls. He circled the rooms twice, waiting for something to pop out at him, something to say stop. He should be studying more, since that was the medium he was now focusing on for the game, and since he’d never committed to painting in school. This was his chance for an education. But then he remembered he didn’t even bring his sketch pad or pencil. He didn’t even have a bag. Maybe he could just…look at the art. Memorize it. Copy the strokes in the air. Understand the pressure and the speed of each touch. Select the colors and fill the room with grass. Hear it brush up against the walls and muffle the steps of the people around him. He walked through the meadows, wandering without direction, but still feeling like he was getting closer to the truth.

He found the nude woman in _The Luncheon on the Grass_. They stared at each other. They had a conversation. He asked her about the texture of the grass. It looked soft and cool, was it soft and cool? Were the vague strokes just trampled boughs and moss? Had she stolen all of the light in the forest, so the grass had nothing to grow toward? Was it wet? Did it hold the dew like oil on water? He felt the dampness send a chill through him.

He moved closer. He twisted his body so it would not cast shadows on the dark scenery. People shuffled around him. They kept their radius. He moved closer.

He moved closer. He rested a hand on the wall. The frame was a deep gold, heavy, big enough to anchor the grand canvas. The curls of the wood poked at his shoulder.

“Excuse me!”

He moved closer. He smelled the grass. The paint. He licked it: a quick, wet stroke.

* * *

He was walking back through the rooms, quickly. There were people at his elbows, a man on his left, a woman on his right. The man was talking to someone while they walked. “Licked. Yes, licked, with his tongue. Send Isak up to the front office. And a registrar to the Manet.”

Even perked up when he heard the name. “Isak?”

The woman explained. “We’re going to the front office to speak with one of the museum’s curators. We need to address what you were doing to the art.”

Even stopped. Or he tried to. He felt their grips on his upper arms then, and understood that they were escorting him out of the gallery by force. “I needed to find out what the grass tasted like. But this is good. We can ask Isak. He knows so much. God, he’s so smart.” Even thought the people would agree with him. If they worked with Isak, surely they knew. But neither of them said anything, just kept him moving forward, back to the main staircase.

Sylvie was standing by her chair. She watched them walk past. They went through the second room, the first room, and then they reached the steps.

Even was getting excited now. He’d go downstairs and see Isak. Just like the first time. He smiled. He wanted to take the steps two at a time, but the hands on his arms held him back. They controlled his pace. They guided him around the corner, halfway down, then took more steps. 

And there he was! “Isak!”

Isak was crossing in front of the base of the staircase, from the basement where he’d just come up, toward the office that Even was being led to. He stopped when he heard his name. His eyes found Even’s. “Even?” Isak's eyes changed when he saw the guards and understood.

Even saw the change. Something snapped. He couldn't tell if it was from above or from below, but whatever had been holding, raising him up was gone. He was falling. Slipping. Or the world had turned upside down. Instead of being on top of a marble staircase, Even felt like he was being crushed beneath all of its weight. Every stone. Every step. All of them. He looked down at Isak and felt a heart break. “Isak?”

He wanted to beg, but it was too late.


	24. Isak

Isak stormed into the front office, a general use room that served as a stopping point between the basement and the gallery. It’s where they stored extra supplies, gift shop inventory, and provided computer and communications access to any employees who needed it. Radios crackled from a table in the corner as instructions were being relayed between security and the handlers; they were discussing the logistics of moving the Manet if it needed to be repaired. Everyone was standing by for Isak’s decision though.

The two security guards led Even into the room. Isak held up his hand and gave a small wave, to signal that they could let him go. He wasn’t going to run. This wasn’t a heist. Even wasn’t a criminal. Isak spoke around him though. “ _The Luncheon_?”

“Yes,” Juliana confirmed. “He leaned against the frame and licked the canvas near the edge, at his height.”

Even stood silently. His eyes followed Isak as he paced in a tight line, in the only space left in the office. Isak couldn’t look at him. He was still in shock, still not sure that the person he knew was the person who had done what Juliana had just said.

“Licked?”

“Yes. Shall we follow protocol?”

Isak almost laughed. Protocol was to escort the perpetrator out the front door, simply make sure that they left the building. Juliana made it sound like a punishment. “I need….” He needed to talk to Even. He also needed to follow protocol. And he needed to get to the Manet, see if any damage had actually been done. He had to look at him. “Even? You _licked_ the painting?”

Even just nodded.

“Are…are you drunk or something?” Isak stepped close to him, to get a whiff. Most of the people who had touched the art were either drunk, high, or four years old. Even knew the rules, so Isak wanted to know why he was breaking them.

Even shook his head. He smelled fine, anyway. And his eyes…they were focused, normal. If anything, they looked scared, but the rational kind of scared, when you feared an inevitable punishment.

“Can you go home? Do you know how to get home?” He felt ashamed that he doubted Even’s basic abilities, that he doubted them to his face, but he had to ask. If he was licking paint, something was fucked up.

“Yes.” It was a sharp response, probably with a hint of anger. Isak didn’t blame him for it.

“Please go home. I’ll.…” His voice dropped. “I’ll call you later.” He nodded at the guards, who gently turned Even back to the door. They were trained to diffuse altercations in the gallery, to guide rather than reprimand, and distract disorder back into order. They must not have reached Even in time to prevent the licking, but they’d minimized its effect on the rest of the museum. The patrons above his head continued to enjoy the art.

When the door to the office shut, Isak dropped into the chair at the desk. He stared at the dark computer screen, and listened to the chatter on the radio. The Manet was big, but they had enough handlers on site to get it back downstairs. An examination table had been cleared. But they were still standing by. Isak needed to get upstairs.

“He…licked? A painting?” Isak asked no one. “Licked?” He pulled his phone out of his coat pocket and saw that he had a text from Even, from about an hour ago. _Nice walls._ Shit, maybe he really was high. And it’s Friday. Wasn’t he supposed to be at work?

Juliana returned to the office. “Do you know who that was?”

Isak sighed. “Yes.”

“Do…should I file a report?”

Isak rubbed his eyes. He appreciated Juliana’s hesitation in her ever-present love for protocol. But he needed to make something clear. Even wasn’t exempt from the repercussions, as inconsequential as they were, simply because of their relationship. “Not yet. I need to see what damage was done. But here, you should write up what happened and have it ready to go.” Isak stood and gestured for Juliana to take his spot at the computer. “When does your shift end?”

“I’m here until close.”

“Okay. I’m going upstairs. Once you’re done I think you can just return to your post. I honestly don’t think this is going to be a huge deal, but I’ll give you an update later. Thanks, Juliana.”

He was grateful for how she handled the situation, for sticking to the rules and not embarrassing any of them beyond what was already done. He hoped there wasn’t any damage and they could just file the report as a formality of the incident, and then they could forget about it. But first he had to go upstairs. He took the steps two at a time.

* * *

Isak had to rush home to Ophelia. The rest of his day had been taken up by Even’s incident, from the examination of the painting to a lengthy discussion about saliva to the filling of the report to the calls to their insurance company and Musée d'Orsay. Luckily they hadn’t found any actual damage, and the museum was satisfied with their report and photos of the canvas. There was just a lot of paperwork to be done to record the fact that the Manet had been touched by a patron, but it would stay on display for the remainder of its loan. Geir had gotten flustered by the whole ordeal, but he was mostly concerned with the bad press the incident might create; he questioned Isak thoroughly so he could cover his own ass.

Protocol stated that the patron who broke the museum’s rule would be banned from future visits for a “significant” period of time. It was up to Geir how long that ban would last, as the punishment was meant to match the crime. After his questioning, he decided on three months. Isak accepted the ruling without objection; he both didn’t care if Even was banned from the museum, and knew the ban wouldn’t actually go into effect. Technically Even wasn’t at the museum that day. A formal letter would be drafted and mailed to Noora, banning _her_.

As the day wore on, Isak got more and more frustrated with what happened, and how his work and reputation were put at risk by it. He couldn’t figure out why Even did it ( _licked_ a _painting_?!) and was annoyed by how much more trouble it caused. Luckily not many of his colleagues were aware of his relationship with Even, so how he handled it didn’t look suspicious, but it had the potential to be disastrous. By the end of the day Isak felt personally offended. Even must have known how stupid it was to do something like that, but to do it at Isak’s exhibit? Couldn’t he have gone and licked some modern art at Knut’s gallery instead? Jesus. Isak was ready to curse Even out by the time he got back to his apartment.

Ophelia was pacing, her displeasure over his tardiness apparent. “I know, I know. Let me change out of my suit first, then we’ll go.” He moved quickly, undressing and redressing himself and hooking the dog up to her leash in record time. She pulled him out the door and didn’t stop until they hit a tree. But then they kept going.

For all of the times she showed off perfectly docile walking with Even, she was tugging her leash every which way now. She sniffed the sidewalk, the air, at every intersection, and Isak had to constantly correct her onto their usual path. He didn’t know what was distracting her so much, but it took them almost twice as long to complete the route. At least she had peed and pooped along the way, so he could return inside with a clear conscience, but something still bothered her. He served her dinner, which she ate slowly, and then she camped out in the hallway, staring at the door.

“We’re not going back outside.” Isak left her in the hallway and went to the kitchen for his own dinner. He had leftovers from last night’s takeout, which was perfect, because he had absolutely no desire to put any more effort into his day. He plated it and tossed it into the microwave. While it zapped he pulled out his phone.

A bunch of grass emojis

_I need a punching bag_

_Nice walls_

He was surprised he hadn’t received anything else from Even, something equally nonsensical as the whole day had been, but maybe Even was heeding his instructions and waiting for Isak to call. He dialed. The microwave beeped. Isak left a message. “Hi Even. Please give me a call when you can. I’ll be home all evening. We need to talk about what happened today.”

Isak didn’t want to talk, but he carried his phone with him as he moved about the apartment throughout the evening, waiting. He wanted to put everything behind him, and he didn’t know if he could do that without talking it out. Or maybe he could. Maybe the weekend would sail on by and things would be back to normal on Monday. He watched his phone but almost hoped it wouldn’t light up with an incoming call. He ate his dinner, sorted his suits for a run to the dry cleaner tomorrow, watched an episode of that baking show that made him feel better about his ineptitude in the kitchen, and checked his work email one more time before bed. He sent Even a text: _Going to bed. Call me tomorrow please. We can get coffee or something._

He coaxed Ophelia into the bedroom, so she wouldn’t spend the whole night on the hardwood floor. Then he stripped down and slid in between his sheets. He fell asleep easily, very much done with Friday.

* * *

Isak called Even on Saturday afternoon and left another voicemail. He took a picture of Even’s clean tuxedo, now hanging at the end of his rack, and sent that to him as well. He thought about Even’s silence a little bit, but understood it as shame. If Isak had licked a painting, he definitely wouldn’t want to talk to someone about it. He would bury himself in blankets until it was safe to emerge, when everyone had forgotten about it. So Isak pretended to forget about it. He ran errands and walked Ophelia and tried to avoid thinking about the museum in any capacity. He checked his email a little more often than he would on the weekend, just because he was still afraid something was going to happen with the Manet. But it seemed to be all resolved; there wasn’t even any dwindling concern from Geir. Sunday felt like a true weekend, where he didn’t have to think about his job or his apartment or his dog. He sprawled out on his couch, watched more of that baking show, and ordered lunch right to his door with his phone.

As he spent the afternoon half paying attention to the TV and half paying attention to his phone, he realized he was bored. And lonely. And he hadn’t felt that in a while. He called Even again, but Isak knew he wasn’t going to answer. He didn’t bother to hold his phone up to his ear or leave another message. Then he thought about what he used to do when he’d reached that point of the weekend. He swiped over to the folder on his phone that held his dating apps. That’s what he used to do. His thumb hovered over the icons, four different places where he chatted with men and kept his weekends booked. He hadn’t opened them since before he met Even. He couldn’t remember who he’d been talking to either, who he might have left hanging as soon as he got back from Paris. Maybe he’d been practicing his French with some locals.

He swiped away. He wasn’t even curious to find out. He went back to Instagram, but that was a temporary fix for the boredom and loneliness. In fact, it only drew attention to how little he connected to the lives he scrolled past. He could talk to any of them about fine art for hours on end, and with Camilla he could learn more about yoga, but there wasn’t much else. He missed Even’s presence, if only because he knew he could talk to him about anything he wanted to. They hadn’t talked about much, now that he thought about it, but Even still had the potential. Even would listen. Even would share. Isak was staring at the solution to his boredom and loneliness right in front of him.

Well, almost. He went back to Even’s profile, tapped on the photo from the night of the benefit, and _then_ he stared at the solution. “Shit. Why are all of the hot ones crazy?”

Ophelia lifted her head but did not provide an answer.

* * *

During her evening walk Ophelia seemed to have calmed down a bit. She no longer tugged in the wrong direction, and spent some time playing with her regular friends, instead of tracking a mystery target. Isak was relieved if only because he wasn’t in the mood for another arm workout. He could also let his own mind wander instead of constantly focusing on the dog. Having not found a solution for his loneliness and boredom beyond a nap, he was determined to figure one out before he went back to work.

Because he knew exactly what was going to happen on Monday: he’d be stuck in his office, staring at the wall, thinking about Even and the first time they kissed. Hell, he did it during the walk, no wall necessary. For all of his frustrations, for all of the signs that he should just end their…fling, it didn’t seem to be an option. Even was giving him an out, a reason to never contact him again, and Isak simply couldn’t. He had to solve the problem of Even in a different way, not just get rid of him. He could certainly try to let him go, but he knew it would be a waste of energy. He’d hunted Even down at his office already; that’s the most effort he’s put into all of his flings combined. And he was going to do it again. In the very least he needed closure: why the fuck did he lick a painting? But he also missed Even in general.

He’d been scared to admit it the other night, when Even came over, but Even had admitted it too, and that seemed to cancel it out. If they both missed each other, neither of them were knocking the…thing out of balance. The relationship. Relationship relationship relationship. He was in a relationship with Even. They were together. He could try to deny it, but that’s what made this whole thing fucked up. Even wasn’t just another dude who behaved poorly in public. Even belonged to Isak. Just like Ophelia did. No, wait. He didn’t own Even. But he cared for him. He wanted him in his life. He got concerned when he exhibited strange behavior, just like with Ophelia. He wanted to call him names that vaguely sounded like desserts.

Isak cursed under his breath, but to a passerby it would just seem like he’d forgotten the keys to his door, since they’d reached their building. Ophelia stopped and let the leash go slack so he could pat down his pockets. He pulled out his phone first, noted that a call or message still had not been returned, and then pulled out his keys. He cursed again, for the evening ahead, when he would wait for Even to respond and fear that he never would.

* * *

“So what do you want first: an intrusive question about your personal life or a cup of coffee?” Kim popped up out of her cube when she heard Isak greet some coworkers on his way through the office. She followed him to his door.

“You got a cup for me?” He asked over his shoulder, not stopping.

“No, it’s just what’s left of my own.”

Isak finally turned to face her while he took off his parka. He smiled when he saw she was carrying two cups, and realized she was joking. “Coffee please.”

Kim handed him the full cup. Isak carried it to his desk, and he tapped a button to turn on his computer. Kim twisted around to shut his door.

“Uh…that’s not suspicious at all.”

She took a seat. “I just want to talk to you about Even, and I don’t think you want anyone else to hear about it.”

“That is…correct.”

“I know. I was dying to ask you about it on Friday but you looked stupefied, so I figured I’d save it for a more caffeinated and private time.”

“I really shouldn’t be discussing my private life with you but goodness, you handle it all with such tact that it’s hard to resist.”

“Okay you…you keep saying that, that you shouldn’t be talking about this stuff with me, but then you go ahead and do it anyway, so I don’t think you should bother preceding everything with that like, faux-self-awareness. Let’s just save each other that little performance.” Kim delivered a swift judgment, took a sip of her own coffee, and continued. “Also, your dude licked a Manet so I don’t think it’s your private life anymore. It’s official museum business. Strictly between us, but still…business.”

Isak hid behind his computer screen, typing in his password slowly. “Fine.”

“Geir seemed to handle it all pretty well.”

“Yeah, it only took him an hour and two conference calls to calm down. But I didn’t get any emails over the weekend, which is a miracle.”

“Congratulations.”

Isak huffed out a laugh. It _was_ an achievement. He took a sip of his own coffee, preparing himself for the actually intrusive questions. Kim had started easy.

“Okay, so I saw Juliana’s report, but is…that what actually happened? He just went up to a painting and licked it?”

“Unfortunately that’s our only source. Sylvie said she had spoken with him in her room, because he was apparently running his hands all over the new walls. Not the paintings, just the walls. And he’d stepped back, listened to her. But it must’ve escalated by the time he got to Juliana’s room.”

“You went to the front office, right? Did he try to explain himself?”

“Um, not really. I just confirmed that he did do the, uh, licking, and then sent him home. He admitted it, but he seemed kind of, shut down, and I didn’t press it. I think I was more concerned about getting him out of the museum than actually talking to him.”

“You guys are really good at…not talking.”

Isak got defensive, throwing his hands in the air. Kim was pushing the right buttons. “I called! I said I’d call him later, after I fixed the mess he made upstairs. He never answered. I texted, and nothing. I mean, I get why he wouldn’t want to answer me, because I just want to shake him and ask ‘Why the fuck are you licking my paintings?’ I don’t think anyone would voluntarily return that call.”

“You’re angry.”

“Of course I’m angry! I’m angry about the art. I’m angry about my job, having to watch someone dab saliva off of 19th century art and translate that into French. I’m angry that I’ve been sleeping with the kind of person who would _do_ that to the art, do that to my job. To be honest I’m not sure I’m ready for whatever excuse he has. So I’m not exactly busting down his door for an answer either.”

“Okay.” Kim absorbed the tension that was wafting off of Isak, diffusing it with small nods and a sip of coffee. Isak tried to calm himself down with his own sip. “So we just won’t talk to Even for a while.”

Isak nodded. He added that to his to-do list. He’d reach out to Even once the mere thought of Friday didn’t send his shoulders into a tight hunch. Maybe after he got back from Paris. He’d just focus on one stressful thing at a time. And maybe in a week Even would come out of hiding on his own.

But then he looked at Kim, who was simply observing him, and realized there might be another answer. “Has Noora said anything?”

Kim shook her head. “We haven’t talked since before Friday. And I didn’t want to ask about it in case she hasn’t heard. Geir would murder me if I leaked it to a journalist.”

“Right, of course. Smart. I would hope Noora would understand the personal nature of it but who the fuck knows. I’ve never talked to her for more than a few minutes, really.”

“Yeah. We do have ‘off the record’ conversations, but…safety first.”

“Thank you for…your loyalty.”

Kim snorted behind her cup. “I’m just not in the mood to get fired any time soon.”

“That makes two of us. Ugh. Okay. Let’s just put all of that aside.” Isak waved the whole incident to the left. He was done going over its inexplicability for what felt like the millionth time. “What do I actually need to get done today?”

Kim jumped into her next gear, rattling off a list of meetings and tasks for Isak, in order of importance. Once he was able to focus on some less personal projects he automatically felt better, and Kim left him shortly after, in peace. Monday felt like Monday again, instead of It’s-been-three-days-since-he-last-saw-Even, which had become his new way of telling time over the weekend. Isak finished his coffee and got to work, making the most of the empty museum and the fresh start to his week.

* * *

He didn’t think about Even again until it was almost time to go home. Geir’s assistant stopped by his office, knocking lightly on his open door. “Isak?” Isak popped his head above his computer screen.

“Hi.”

“I have the persona non grata letter that Geir signed off on, and it’s supposed to go to,“—the assistant read the piece of paper in his other hand—“Even Bech Næsheim, but I can’t find that person in our database. Geir said you’d know how to find him, because you talked to him.”

“Ah, yes. He wasn’t a member. Rather, he was using someone else’s membership. Give me a minute and I’ll look her up. You’ll have to readdress the letter to her, sorry.”

“Should…it go to a different person?”

“It’s going to the same address; they live together. It’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure he’s never going to actually want to come back anyway. But he’ll get the message.”

Isak pulled up their membership directory and searched for Noora’s name. He copied her address on file and pasted it into an email, shooting it to the assistant without bothering with a subject line. “Just sent it to you. And Geir said three months, right?”

The assistant checked the letter again and nodded. While he had the directory open, he edited Noora’s account from “active” to “suspended.” If Even _did_ try to show up again, he wouldn’t get past check-in. Since it was a manual edit he didn’t have an option to restore the account in three months, like the way accounts get reactivated once a membership fee is credited. He scribbled a reminder on his to-do list to reactivate it on his own. “Okay, she’s been suspended. You can send that out right away.”

“Thanks for your help!” The assistant sounded cheery now that his problem had been solved, and he practically hopped away from Isak’s door. Isak checked the directory to make sure his change had been saved, and then closed out of it. He was glad the assistant had needed help, because he’d forgotten about that little detail.

Then Isak leaned back in his chair and stared at the wall. Instead of thinking about Even though, he thought about Noora. He wondered if she knew about what happened, if Even had told her, or if she was going to get the letter and have no idea why she’d been suspended. The reason wasn’t explicitly included in the letter, just the terms of the suspension and the contact information of their publicity manager, who would disclose the details in as neutral a way as possible. But no one ever called to ask why they were suspended, because they usually already knew. And now, despite Kim’s precautions, Noora was about to be tipped off about something strange. He hoped Even was at least talking to her about it, or that she would go to him first before contacting the museum. But Isak had no way of knowing how the situation would roll out without tipping off Noora anyway. He gave up trying to solve the new twist. He would let it be Even’s mess to handle, because he was done chasing after whatever Even liked to leave behind.

* * *

During Ophelia’s evening walk, when she’d calmed down enough that he could hold her leash in one hand and compose an email in the other while still walking, he sent a request to Kim. _Could you send me Noora’s cell phone number?_

She responded quickly with a contact card. _Are you going to ask her about it?_

_Not yet. But she’s going to receive the suspension letter. Let me know if she tries to contact you first._

_Oh shit._

Isak wasn’t that worried about the suspension. And he wanted to stand strong on not getting involved any further in Even’s mess. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about Even. He’d called him again on his way home, left another short message asking to hear from him. He knew he would keep calling, too. As angry as he was, he still cared. He was angry _because_ he cared. And if Even wasn’t going to answer him directly, at least Isak would be ready for the chase.


	25. Even

Someone was in his room. He didn’t move, didn’t lift his blanket, to find out. He listened to the sounds and stared at the fabric in front of his face. It fluttered slightly where his breathing pushed it away and pulled it back in. Whoever was in his room was picking up the dishes on his desk and turning off the lamp. His door closed. He waited until he was sure the person was on the other side of the door, walking away. Then he tugged on the blanket and peeked out into the darkness of his bedroom. It was probably evening. That had probably been Noora. But he was alone now. Even pulled the blanket back up enough to cover his mouth but not his nose. He closed his eyes.

* * *

Even tried to figure out what time it was based on the voices he heard. He recognized Eskild. There was another man. Maybe…oh, he forgot his name now. The short one. Fancy. Even sat up, stared at the door, and listened. The room was still dark, though in January that didn't mean much.

He didn’t know what day it was. He didn’t know if Eskild was working. The two men were talking in normal voices, nothing hushed and nothing loud. Even could catch a few words. They were talking about dinner, what to make for dinner. Even felt his stomach clench at the thought of food. Maybe he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten in a while, but he didn’t want to eat anything. If it was hunger it was just a physical hunger. His stomach was more interested in the conversation than his mind was. He dropped back onto his pillow and rolled to his side. He stared at the dormant TV and the paintings in front of it, a bunch of shadowy rectangles. Eventually the voices faded but he could still hear activity in the kitchen.

It was the hum of other people, of other people living around him, living without him, that lulled him back to sleep.

* * *

The next time Even woke up it felt like morning. For about ten seconds he felt fresh and light. But then he rolled to his side to fish around his bed for his phone, to check the time, and then the weight of everything returned. His hand slowed its search, because he knew what it would find: a phone that had died a while ago. He had turned it to vibrate as soon as he got home from the museum and let it drain to complete silence over the next few days. It had been a few days. He knew that. When he looked over at his desk he saw a blue cup. There had been a mug before, and a clear glass before that. Noora had been leaving him food, like she always did when this happened. He had been ignoring it, like he always did when this happened.

Even listened for other people, but didn’t hear anything. It seemed safe to go to the bathroom. He moved quietly through the apartment. When he peed, the sound of his stream was loud, aggressive. His pee was dark. He flushed and went back to bed.

Despite having just woken up, and the trip to the bathroom taking only a couple of minutes, he felt exhausted when he slipped back under his blanket. He let out a soft groan as if he’d just pushed himself through a marathon. He should have gotten something to drink while he was up, now that he was slightly more aware of his body. He looked at his desk, at the cup, but he couldn’t climb out of bed to fetch it. He waited. Maybe in a little while it would be worth it to find the energy again. Maybe his body would demand it, in spite of his mind’s best efforts to suppress him. Maybe.

* * *

He heard Noora that night. She was in the kitchen, then she was watching TV. Then the TV stopped and she answered a phone call. He listened, glad for the distraction. 

She sounded angry. Or at least stern. Perhaps it was a work call. She was saying “no” a lot, loudly, and then dropping her voice to explain why. Maybe it was that guy from the new year’s party. Even hadn’t been keeping up with her relationships, or her in general, but it sounded like she was trying to push someone away. She was pacing the living room while she talked.

“Isak! Please.”

Even’s whole body tensed up. His neck went stiff. His toes curled. Everything he’d been avoiding since Friday flooded the room. He couldn’t escape it. He threw his blanket over his head. Noora’s voice faded.

She wasn’t talking to Isak. Not his Isak. Not like Isak was his, but the Isak he knew. Isak didn’t know Noora. He didn’t have her phone number. Why would he call her? Of course he would call her. Fuck fuck fuck fuck shit. What if he was angry? What if he’d gotten in trouble? What if he’d ruined the painting? What if he’d have to pay for it? Shit, how much did a Manet go for these days? What if he committed a crime? Is licking a painting crime? Why the _fuck_ did he do that? He was going to lose his job anyway, so it didn’t matter how much it cost, he wouldn’t be able to afford it. God jesus fuck shit why does he keep _doing_ this?

Even moaned into his pillow. He rolled back and forth, twisting himself up in his blanket. It wrapped tighter and tighter until he couldn’t move. He was like a mummy. Like a baby. He wanted to scream. He didn’t know why he was here. But he made enough sound with the blanket to block out the Isak Noora was talking to, to block out Noora, to block out his apartment, to block out everything except the white noise of the fabric.

He stopped when all he could hear was his own breath and his heart pumping blood through his body and he said fuck fuck fuck fuck shit to all of that too.

* * *

Someone knocked. They waited for Even to respond, even though he never did. Then Noora came in. “Even?” She walked close enough to his bed to see that he was awake, just not responding. “Can I plug in your phone?”

He didn’t say anything. An answer wouldn’t matter. That was enough permission for Noora, who walked closer and scooped up his phone from next to his pillow. He saw her but avoided eye contact. She did the same. He heard the chime of a dead phone finally reunited with electricity. “I’m going out tonight, and then, you know, I’m at work during the day. I just wanted to make sure you had a way to contact someone if you needed help.”

Even almost snorted out loud. That’s the last thing he would do, call someone. But then he felt bad for brushing off Noora’s legitimate concern. Obviously something was wrong. She was just looking out for him, in that middle ground that they’ve reached over the years. She didn’t push, but she let him know she was there. She was there if he needed a pull.

“Also, um…Isak called me.”

Even acknowledged this by pulling his blanket over his head again. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“He said he’s been trying to reach you. That’s how I knew your phone was dead. I know you probably don’t want to talk to him, but he’s worried about you.”

“Tell him I’m fine.” He had said the lie so many times that it came out too easily.

Noora sighed. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Tell him whatever you want.”

“I told him you were having a difficult time. That you wanted to be alone. I’ve never really talked to him, but he seemed kind of angry. Maybe he's always like that. I don't know."

Even squeezed his eyes tighter. His head pounded with the tension. “I’m sorry he called you.” His phone pinged with a million messages once it had filled up with enough juice. Noora silenced them.

“I gave him as much information as I could. I hope he’ll just continue trying to reach you directly. It…looks like most of your notifications are from him. Some emails from Tor, too.”

He’d truly shut everything out. He had no idea what was going on with his job, with Isak. Everything was either functioning fine without him or everything was going to shit. Either way, that was a good enough reason to stay in bed forever. “I’m on vacation.” Two weeks to start. Maybe forever.

“Okay. I’m glad he knows. Do you want something to eat?”

He didn’t want anything.

Noora tried again. “Are you hungry?”

His body automatically responded to the specific word, twitching in his cocoon, which Noora noticed. He was annoyed that she was getting through on a technicality.

“I’m going to get you some food. I’m going to make dinner. I’m hungry too.” Noora gathered the dishes she’d been leaving on his desk and left.

When she returned she went around to the other side of Even’s bed, close to where he’d curled up. She nudged his legs out of the way and sat down. This forced the blanket into an uncomfortable pin, and Even had to free himself. Once he’d exposed his face Noora shoved a plate of bread and cheese into it.

“Fuck.”

“Eat. You haven’t eaten a single thing I’ve left for you.”

Even grumbled something.

“We do this dance every time. Last time you waited so long that you vomited when you finally ate something. It will hurt less if you eat this now.”

He took the plate. He didn’t want to eat but he also didn’t want to vomit, and there was already pain when his stomach contracted on nothing. He held the plate in one hand and pushed up to a sitting position with the other. Noora waited until he took a bite of cheese, then she started eating her own light meal.

They didn’t talk. Even didn’t have anything to say. He never did. He had apologies coursing through him faster than his own blood, regrets and shame ready to spill out of the tiniest cut but he held on to them with all of the strength he had left. Somehow, if he let it out, it would get worse. He knew that. He swallowed it back with every bite and every breath.

Noora didn’t risk it either. She took his plate as soon as he’d cleared the last corner of bread. She stood and walked around the piles of clothes, back to his desk. “You need to drink, too.” She pointed to the fresh cup, next to his silent phone. It was red.

“I know.” Even fell to his side. He didn’t have the energy to adjust his pillow, now wedged under his hip, or pull his blanket back up. The food was another weight in his stomach.

Noora looked at him, one long, pitiful assessment. He felt himself heat up under the stare. His mind ran through everything Noora wanted to say but didn’t because she was a good person. Besides, they’d been said before. By Noora, by Eskild, by his mother and father, by his ex. By Isak, too, probably. Maybe those exact words were waiting for him right now on his phone.

Noora left with the plates. Even closed his eyes. He saw Isak’s face in the darkness. He saw how tight Isak’s jaw was and how bright his eyes were, when he had some kind of rage boiling away inside, held back because he too had been a good person. Isak had a good face for a video game. He had a challenging, but good face. The emotions were dynamic and clear. Even could see the face that had been the angry voice on the phone. He could see the line that crossed his nose when his brow dug down in disappointment.

Maybe it would go away if Even disappeared.


	26. Isak

By Friday morning Isak didn’t know what to do. He was distracted, running through the details of his Paris trip with Kim, nodding at whatever she told him, without really focusing on it. At some point during the week he’d sent her his research files on the developing exhibit, revealing all of his secrets, and she’d organized them into a comprehensive folio that she was offering to print for him. What he actually wanted was a comprehensive plan to see Even again. So he just nodded along and continued thinking about the other secrets he’d been keeping.

Noora had been a dead end. Or at least a roadblock. A polite roadblock, but a roadblock nonetheless. He knew Even didn’t want to talk to him, and it sounded like something was wrong, something that was probably bigger than him. Because at that point Isak wasn’t angry anymore. Not really. The incident was a whole week ago, had been completely resolved in terms of the art, and not even Kim was inquiring about details. The anger had faded into simply a thick layer of confusion. Surely Even would be able to understand that? Isak’s messages became softer over the past few days, no longer demanding answers and simply just begging for a connection. Even didn’t have anything to fear from Isak. And yet Even was gone.

Isak had messaged him every way he knew how. His texts weren’t being delivered anymore and DMs sent through Instagram went unread. He’d dug up his email addresses, a work one and a personal one, and only got an automatic response that he was on vacation. Even could be anywhere. He could be alone, having a difficult time, anywhere.

He supposed that’s why Even showed up on Friday, because he was on vacation. But he thought that would’ve been something Even would’ve shared with him in advance. If he had time off, wouldn’t he want to spend it together? Isak didn’t think he wanted to jump on an airplane with him, but it would’ve at least been courteous to let him know he was going to be away for a little bit. It would help control the time apart, so that it would be anticipation for a reunion instead of just this void of longing. He missed Even. He was confused by Even. He was confused by his missing Even.

There was still that voice that would sneak up and say, “Let it go.” Isak had trained that voice, over the years, to guide his personal life and avoid…this. It would sneak up and remind him that all of this time spent thinking about Even was dragging him off course. Kim’s voice joined it. “Isak.”

“Yes?” He coughed. “Yes.” It was a horrible attempt at feigning awareness of the situation.

“I just forwarded the email I got about your flight. The return trip I’d booked was cancelled so there’s only an afternoon option for a non-stop on Tuesday.”

“Yes. That’s fine. I’ll just stay at the hotel as long as possible.”

“Okay. Well, I think that covers your trip. Is there anything else you wanted to address before you leave?”

If there had been, he didn’t know about it. He had difficulty seeing past Even, as if Even’s wellbeing is what his future depended on. He couldn’t think about Monday or Tuesday until he knew what today would become, if Even would suddenly respond and throw his whole Friday into a tailspin. Again. He shook his head.

Kim lingered.

Isak sighed, knowing he was about to spill everything. They hadn’t talked about Even since Monday, so there were four days of confusion that needed an outlet. “Have you heard from Noora?”

Kim shook her head. “She either doesn’t care about the suspension or still doesn’t know about it. I don’t know how long it takes to mail a letter these days.”

“I’m hoping it’s the former. Otherwise, with my luck, she’ll find out the minute I board a plane to another country.”

“Well there’s no need to tempt fate now,” Kim chastised him lightly. “But it really isn’t a big deal. It’s protocol. She would understand that.”

“Right. Yes.”

“And…that’s not why you were asking.”

Fuck.

“I haven’t heard from him either.”

It must’ve been so obvious, it must’ve been written all over Isak’s body, because Kim’s shoulders dropped. Her mouth twitched into a sympathetic pout. She must’ve been able to read his heartbreak like the map of the museum.

He took a deep breath. “Nothing since I sent him away on Friday. I think something is wrong.”

“He did…he did lick a painting.” Her tone was still sympathetic. She wasn’t accusing Even, just trying to help explain.

“Yes, but something else. I called Noora the other night. His phone had died. But she couldn’t tell me what’s going on.”

“Did you ask about what happened?”

“Not exactly. I don’t know if she knows, and I didn’t want to…I don’t care about the painting. I just want to know if he’s okay.” Isak felt his throat tighten. But he fought it. He wasn’t going to fucking cry over Even, cry over the fact that he was being ignored by Even, cry over the fact that it actually hurt. And he most definitely wasn’t going to do it in front of Kim, at the office. It wasn’t going to go that far.

“Okay, well.” Kim was thinking hard. She stared at his desk. “He’s disappeared like this before, right? Where did you find him last time?”

“I went to his office. I knew he’d be working on the weekend and I…cornered him there.”

“Could you go to his office again?”

“He’s not there. He has an out-of-office response on his email.” Isak picked up his cell phone and opened his personal email inbox. He showed Kim the automated reply that he’d received.

“It’s…strange that it’s so vague. Like don’t you usually mention when you’ll be back in the office? So people know when they’ll get an answer from you?”

It was vague. Simple. But it didn’t seem strange to Isak. “Maybe he did that on purpose so he doesn’t have a bunch of people jumping on his back as soon as he returns.” Isak thought it was a power move, actually. Kim hesitated, but accepted his explanation.

“Okay, so he’s not at the office. And Noora didn’t say where he was?”

“No. She said he wasn’t responding because he was having a difficult time, but she wouldn’t say what was wrong or what exactly he was doing.”

“Does he drink? Or do drugs? Maybe he went to rehab. Maybe that’s why he’s super vague because he doesn’t know exactly when he’ll be like…fully recovered.”

Kim came up with the explanation pretty fast, but Isak was just as fast shutting it down. “No, we’ve talked about that.” Isak trusted what Even had told him about his drug use in the past, and he knew enough about him to know how alcohol affected his behavior. They didn’t talk about much but what they did share they were honest about. What happened on Friday wasn’t driven by drink, and his disappearance wasn’t either.

“Yeah, and that’s kind of…that was a little mean of me. I shouldn’t have assumed that so easily.”

Isak shrugged. “It’s possible. Everyone has their demons.” He didn’t want to think Even was going through something like that, but…. “Shit.”

Isak didn’t know anything. With every explanation that crossed his mind, it got harder and harder to reject them, simply because he didn’t know anything about Even. He knew he had a job. He knew he had roommates. That…that was it. He’d been so successful at keeping Even at arm’s length that now, when all he wanted to do was pull him into his chest, he couldn’t. He continued to mutter curse words, most of them directed at himself, his own foolishness. Kim kept her pity silent, but Isak felt it anyway.

“Fuck. Okay. I think we’re done. You don’t need to see this.” Isak stared at his keyboard, trying to dismiss Kim without looking at her.

“I….” Kim stood. “I wish I could help you more, Isak. But…maybe you should go home? You don’t have any meetings or tours today, and anything else could probably wait until you’re back next week. You could go home and just…review your folio for your meeting with Hubert, and wait for Even to call. Or, or you could go to his place! I won’t tell Geir. I’ll just say you’re feeling under the weather. And you could go see if Even is home. Not like I’m advocating uh, cornering him, again, but—“

Isak waved his hand. “Thank you, Kim, but no. I’ve never been to his place. I don’t know where he lives.”

Kim’s nervousness about trying to solve her boss’s love life disappeared and her voice went sharp. “Are you kidding me?”

Isak snapped his head up to see what was wrong. Kim’s mouth had dropped open in disbelief.

“You don’t know where Even is and yet you haven’t tried ringing his doorbell?”

“I, I don’t—“

“Isak! I’m sorry I’m yelling but you _do_ know where he lives! Oh my god! This whole time…I assumed you’d already done this!” Kim walked around his desk and shoved him aside with her hip. His chair rolled too far, and Isak lunged for the edge of the desk to pull himself back in front of the screen. Kim bent over his keyboard and opened the museum’s member directory.

She typed in “Noora” with two Os. She pointed at the address that popped up.

“You are a very smart man, Isak, but this has to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever had to show you.”

* * *

He didn’t run out of the building. He remained glued to his chair, staring at the address, long after Kim left his office. He simmered in his own stupidity for an undefined amount of time, and then he actually did something. He copied the address into Google maps and found out where Even lived.

His apartment was across the city. Which made sense, as he thought back to how long Even took to meet him. He stared at the map for a while, then switched to street view to see what the building looked like. Then he plugged in his own address to pull up directions. That was the route Even took to get to Isak’s apartment, and to his office, and to their restaurant. Isak didn’t travel in that direction very often, but he still wondered if they would’ve crossed paths casually, on that commute. Isak typed the address into the maps app on his phone, so he would have it there as well. So he could pull it up again later.

He wasn’t ready to go there just yet. He didn’t run out of the building, like they do in the movies, to show up at Even’s door and make a declaration of love. He’d spent the whole week imagining a million different situations that Even could be in, reasons why he wouldn’t want to see Isak, reasons why Isak shouldn’t do exactly that. And maybe he’d convinced himself that it was for the best. After all, why was it such a dumb oversight? Maybe he didn’t want to know where Even lived so he would have an excuse to not find him. Maybe he was giving himself an out.

So he sat there and looked at the map, and then he went back to his inbox and sorted everything Kim had told him about his trip. He paid attention to that this time. He uploaded the folio to his dropbox, checked his flight and hotel reservations in his calendar, adding travel times to get to his room, showered, and then over to the museum for a meeting. He’d arrive just before it closed, getting in the door, and then he’d find Hubert and let him lead the way to dinner. He dreaded having to go through the song and dance, but knew that it was the last thing he’d have to do for his exhibit. Just one more little show.

At lunch he grabbed something from the café and went to back to his desk. He looked at the map again. Then he reviewed Geir’s comments on the summer programming that they’d finally presented to him. Kim had been a great help with brainstorming, and Geir was pleased with how robust it was, even if they were getting too close to his deadline. It was a small victory at the end of an otherwise heavy week, and he counted it enough to cross it off of his to-do list. He had approval on their preliminary budget, so he’d start adding implementation tasks next week.

He looked at the map again.

He looked at the wall, the door.

He shut down his computer. He grabbed a handful of business cards from his drawer and tossed them into a spare museum tote bag. He unplugged his phone charger and put it in there as well. He took a deep breath, then stood. He pressed his palms down his thighs, brushing away lunch crumbs, willing away wrinkles, reassuring himself. He pulled on his parka and whipped his scarf around his neck.

He paused at Kim’s cubicle on the way out. “I don’t…I don’t think I’m feeling very well. I’m going to head home early.”

“Okay, email me if you need anything.”

He gave her a half-hearted wave, then spun away.

* * *

Isak went home. He wasn’t feeling well. He was nervous, and scared, and sweating even though it was freezing outside. He walked Ophelia early and put down food for her. He had no idea what was going to happen next. He could be back home in an hour, having knocked on a door and gotten the same response he’d been receiving all week. Or….

Isak shook his head. He physically tried to scramble his brain into thinking of something else. There wasn’t a point to any of this worrying, and he knew it. He’d even chastised Even for doing the same thing. He just had to wait. He just had to chase. He changed into jeans and a sweater, slightly more comfortable and warmer than his suit. He plucked Even’s tuxedo from the rack, another excuse. He almost laughed at himself. He didn’t do declarations of love, but he _did_ return clothing. At least there was that. He put his coat back on at the door and petted Ophelia goodbye. He headed out to the bus stop.

It was strange taking the bus at this time, late afternoon. He was used to other people in suits staring at their phones, but now he saw more children, loud and free as they started their weekend. Isak watched them as a distraction.

He’d memorized the stop he needed to get off at, so he ignored the people and buildings and trees that the bus drove past. He watched the other passengers and rehearsed an opening line, something that said “I’m returning your tuxedo” but also conveyed how much he missed Even, how worried he was. By the time he reached his stop though, he was still stuck on the suit. At best he was a delivery boy.

He found Even’s street, and recognized the buildings from his study session earlier that morning. He walked right up to the door and knocked, not quite aware of his actions, especially since they didn’t make sense. If he were to put any thought into it, he would’ve convinced himself to turn around already, or not even get off the bus. But he was there now, knocking, and waiting for a response that wouldn’t come. After about a minute he mentally slapped himself and found the buzzer for Even’s apartment. His name wasn’t on it, but he saw Noora and Eskild. He pressed it.

“Hello?” A man’s voice crackled down to him. It didn’t sound like Even. But maybe Isak had forgotten what he sounded like.

“Hi, is Even there?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Isak. I have his tuxedo.”

“Riccardo? What? Who? Whatever. I’m running late, just come up.” The door clicked open, and Isak pushed automatically.

As he climbed the stairs he realized it must’ve been Eskild. Even said he worked at a restaurant, right? Or maybe he knew that just from Instagram. He was probably on his way to his shift.

Isak knew he was at the right apartment because a leg was sticking out, propping the door open. “Hello?” The rest of Eskild’s body appeared, and he jerked slightly once he saw Isak.

“You’re Isak!”

“Yes, you just buzzed me up?”

“I thought—“

“I have Even’s tuxedo.” Isak held up the hanger, letting the suit flutter down straight.

“Ohhhhhhh.” Eskild stood in the doorway while he processed Isak’s presence. Then he reached out a hand. “I can take that.”

“Um.” Isak stepped back. “I’d also like to see Even, if he’s home?

Eskild dipped his head backward, as if to check, though it was too quick to be a proper question. Eskild knew the answer. “I don’t—. He’s—, he’s not—. I think he’s asleep.”

“Do you think he’ll be up soon? I…I haven’t heard from him in a week and I’m getting concerned.”

“I’m not sure. And I need to leave. I’m late for work.” Eskild had reached behind him and grabbed his coat. He struggled to put it on while also holding the door open.

A flood of excuses ran through Isak’s head, too fast for him to figure out the best one. So he tried to invite himself into a stranger’s apartment. “Could I come in and wait?” When a better excuse remained elusive, he simply added a plaintive, “Please?” He stepped forward. Eskild had retreated into the apartment to put on his Doc Martens. He was silent while he laced them up.

“I…We’ve been seeing each other pretty regularly, and then something happened on Friday, and he hasn’t returned any of my messages this whole week, which is strange. I just want to see him. I just want to know if he’s okay.” Isak’s voice shook as he tried to explain why he was there, why he didn’t just want to drop off the tuxedo.

Eskild straightened and gave Isak a hard look. “This is such a bad idea but I can’t be late and you look like you’re about to cry. And he shouldn’t be alone.” Eskild pulled open the door the rest of the way, letting Isak in. He roughly grabbed the hanger from Isak’s hand and hooked it on the wall where his coat had been. “He’s in the middle bedroom. I’m texting Noora that you’re here. If you hurt him I swear to Gay Jesus you’ll never see your dick again.” Eskild shoved past Isak to get out the door, forcing him to stumble and catch his balance on the wall. Isak turned around in time to hear the deadbolt click as Eskild locked the door. And then a heavy silence settled around Isak, anchoring him to the hallway.

He was alone. Even was alone. And still, he didn’t move.

* * *

A text message from Noora pinged in about five minutes later. _He sleeps a lot and doesn’t talk. He might get angry. Please be kind. I’ll be home by midnight._

Isak read the message ten times. It sounded like Noora was warning him on how to approach a feral animal. A new kind of fear shot through him, slightly different than the fear of the unknown he’d become too familiar with over the past week. Now he knew one thing: it was bad.

It was enough though, to finally prompt action out of Isak. He toed off his boots, trying to do so quietly, and hung up his coat and scarf on another wall hook. It sounded like Noora thought he would be there for a while, as if he was stepping in to cover the late shift, and she would relieve him of his duties at midnight. So he got comfortable. He walked down the hallway, treading lightly in case the floorboards creaked, and slowly took stock of the apartment as it opened up to him.

He entered the living room, and there was that striking blue couch. He recognized it the same way Eskild had recognized him: he’d gotten comfortable seeing it on Instagram but was still not prepared for that first real life sighting. He took a moment to process it, and the fact that he was in Even’s apartment. Then he ventured to the kitchen, poking his head in. He didn’t linger, knowing that he wasn’t there for a frying pan. He moved on to confirm the location of the bathroom, but spent even less time with it. Then he faced the far side of the living room, where three doors waited for his decision.

He knew what he had to do. He knew what he was going to do. But one last “what if” hovered like a cloud. It was why he hadn’t messaged anyone about his arrival. It was why he’d carried a tuxedo across town. It was why he’d tip-toed silently through the apartment: _What if I just left? What if he never knew I was here?_

Isak's forehead creased in disappointment, and his lips disappeared into a tight line. It was a stupid option that shouldn’t have existed, but remained out of habit. It was a short-sighted attempt to protect himself, to escape. To return to his life before Even. But what life was that?

The three doors looked identical, painted white wood. If Eskild hadn’t told him which one Even was behind, he would have had to guess, and knock, and wait. But he knew, so he went right up to the middle one and opened it, before anything else could attempt to stop him.

It was dark. It seemed empty. There was a lump of a comforter on a naked mattress, and if Even was in the room he must’ve been under that. Isak stared at it from the doorway for a moment, waiting for movement. Except maybe Even really was asleep, and Isak really was too quiet, and the light from the open door didn’t cut through the fabric.

He let himself take in the rest of the room. It smelled strange, a mix of sweet decay and sharp chemicals. He could barely see the floor under a carpet of clothes, sheets, and canvases. There was food on his desk, untouched. The lump didn’t move. “Even?” His voice was hoarse and came out in an accidental whisper. He walked into the room, stepping around piles to reach the side of Even’s bed. “Even?” The lump was closed off, but it looked more like a body from the side. Isak estimated where Even’s head was and pulled back the comforter. Even stared back at him, wide-eyed, terrified.

Even didn’t move, didn’t say anything. So Isak didn’t move, didn’t say anything. They were frozen, trapped by each other’s presence and proximity.

Isak thought he’d be relieved, because he found Even, because Even was safe in bed, but instead he felt his stomach drop and his mouth dry up. He knew then that he wasn’t supposed to find Even. He wasn’t supposed to be in his apartment, his room, holding his blanket. He wasn’t supposed to see him like this.

Before he could drop the blanket and step back, Even bolted up, knocking Isak’s hand away. Isak let out a small scream. Even scrambled onto his hands and knees and almost crab walked backward. He disappeared under the blanket again and then disappeared completely: he’d fallen off the bed. His body made a dull thud onto another pile of clothes.

“Even!” Isak ran to the other side of the bed, slipping on a t-shirt and sliding to his knees. He tugged at the blanket until he found Even’s head. “Even. Even, are you okay?” As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Of fucking course Even wasn’t okay. He bit back any more words and just focused on assessing the situation. He uncovered the rest of Even, making sure there weren’t any broken bones or twisted joints. His body was limp and face turned to the floor. Isak dug his hands beneath Even’s armpits and hefted him upright. It took a considerable amount of effort, but Isak got him sitting up against the side of the mattress. Even kept his eyes on the ground, avoiding him. He covered his face with his hands.

And then he cried.

Silent sobs shook his shoulders. Tears leaked down to his chin, trailed around his wrists. Isak felt the heaving breaths as he held Even’s ribcage, still holding him up.

Isak sat there on his knees, watching, feeling, Even cry.

* * *

“Please leave.”

Isak almost didn’t hear it. He couldn’t see Even’s face, and had been so focused on Even’s breathing that he wasn’t listening for a voice. But eventually Even found his.

“Please.”

“I can’t.”

There was a shuddery inhale, and then fresh tears. Even finally dropped his hands. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips quivering with the energy it took to keep his mouth closed.

Isak couldn’t leave. He could not walk away from Even. He had to move, because his feet were falling asleep under all of his still weight, but he shifted as compactly as he could. He brought his legs out from under him and sat down. He faced Even from the side. To get closer, he tucked his right leg in front of him and raised his left leg over Even’s lap. He tried to preserve some comfort for himself, since he didn’t know how long they would sit there. He looped his arms around Even’s left one, securing himself to Even’s side in a light hug.

If he had to, Even could jump up and run. Isak did not cling or suppress or lock him down. But Isak silently begged him not to. _Please don’t run. Please don’t run. Please don’t run._ His fingers drew slow circles on Even’s bicep. Isak modulated his own breathing, his own heartbeat, in hopes that it would bring Even’s down to match it.

Eventually it did. Eventually they were both physically calm. Once Even’s tears had stopped, dried up, Isak took in the rest of him. His lips were chapped and his skin was oily. His hair stuck out at odd places, no longer combed, not even with rough fingers. He smelled. Even down there on the floor next to the paintings, closer to the chemicals, Even’s scent was overpowering. And it wasn’t the comforting, strong smell of a sweaty man pressed up against him during a thorough fuck; it was a cloying assault, a sign of a body with nothing to feed on but itself.

Isak pieced together what had happened over the last week for himself: nothing. He was correct in assuming Even had retreated to a blanket fort of shame after being dismissed from the museum, and it seemed Even had stayed there the whole time. His clothes, a t-shirt and sweatpants, while not soiled, were not fresh either. Even was probably getting himself to the bathroom, but that was it. He wasn’t eating. He wasn’t drinking. If Isak lifted his head he’d be able to see the impression in the mattress that remained from seven days of near-constant weight. Instead he took in the puffy skin under Even’s eyes and the way his cheeks had sunken in. He remembered the ribs he had felt more prominently now than any time he’d held Even there before. He wondered if they were sitting there on the floor partly because Even couldn’t stand.

Even’s eyes were open, but staring at nothing. His lips parted slightly to breathe through his mouth. Isak was afraid of saying or doing anything that would disturb the quiet they’d finally reached, but he also knew it was the wrong kind of quiet, and that it had to be disturbed. Even remained cloaked in something, a layer of grime combined with something he couldn’t see, something suffocating, and Isak was desperate to scrape it all away.

Isak unwound his arms, lifted his leg, and pushed backward. _Please don’t run._ He rose to his feet and kept his eyes locked on Even. _Please don’t run._ He went to Even’s closet to see if anything clean remained. _Please don’t run._ He listened for movement while he collected boxers and a soft sweater, and, miraculously, a clean set of bed linens. _Please don’t run. Also please let there be towels in the bathroom._

“Even, can you stand? We’re going to take a shower.”

He didn’t stand on his own, but he could hold his own weight; Isak just had to heavily guide him. Isak tugged him up under his armpits again, then held him to his side while they walked to the bathroom.

“Use the toilet. I’ll be right back.” It was risky, but he left Even alone in the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He hoped the firm instruction, paired with the probable need for him to actually pee, would keep him there while Isak threw clean sheets on Even’s bed. It was a sloppy job but he tucked the corners quickly, and scooped up the change of clothes. He ran back to the bathroom.

“I’m coming in.” He waited a beat in case Even still needed privacy, but not long enough to invite more shame into the situation. Even flushed the toilet as Isak opened the door.

The bathroom was self-explanatory. There was a skinny shelf with folded towels, and a large variety of shampoos on a rack in the shower. Isak turned on the water and held his hand out, waiting for it to warm up. While he did that he watched Even.

Even seemed to have shifted from staring at nothing to staring at the sink. He was leaning on the counter a bit as well, a bony hip resting on the edge. He had an air of awareness about him that had been absent before, so it seemed like he’d leveled up from near death to merely lost. Isak would still need to guide him, but it would take a little less force.

The water was warm. Isak wiped his hand on his jeans and then started stripping. He pulled his sweater over his head and folded it, setting it in the last free space on the counter. His jeans and underwear and socks, too. Once he was naked he stepped in front of Even and did the same for him. Shirt, sweatpants, underwear. Those he left in a pile on the floor though, since Even had something else clean to put on once they were done. He took Even’s hand, and was surprised by the light grip he felt in return. But he didn’t acknowledge it. He just continued on, plucking a washcloth from the shelf, stepping into the shower, and making space for Even to follow. 

Under the water Even didn’t look the same. He almost looked normal. His head dropped and eyes closed, but that was just what you did in the shower. He looked like he used to, when he was showering at Isak’s, and didn’t want to get soap in his eyes. And just like he used to, Isak pumped some shampoo into his hands and massaged a lather into Even’s scalp. His fingers made small, slow circles. He made an educated guess on which soap was Even’s based on the scent, and then worked thoroughly to recover the familiar smell. He kept Even under the water so he could keep his eyes closed. Isak moved his limbs as was necessary, to clean every inch of him and strip away the past week. He wielded the washcloth like a conservator with cotton swabs and a sable brush.

Even wavered slightly, and reached an arm out to steady himself. The heat from the shower must’ve been getting to him. Isak finished scrubbing down to Even’s ankles, then rose to his feet. He felt faint as well, from the sudden rush and the fact that Even’s eyes were open then. He was looking at Isak. He was seeing Isak.

He thought he should say something, now that he knew he had a connection, but Isak’s brain lacked blood and words. He wrung out the washcloth and draped it over the rack. He took Even’s face in his hands, cradling his jaw, and than pushed his head back. “Rinse.” Even’s eyes closed again.

He lost the connection almost as soon as it had been made. Perhaps he wasn’t ready for it.

Isak used his fingers to comb Even’s hair back, and it flowed with an impossible softness under the water. He wanted to keep Even there, warm, weightless, and clean, but he knew that this wasn’t a solution. He held the back of Even’s neck with one hand and pulled his head forward. He reached around him with his other hand and turned off the water. They stepped out.

Even toweled himself off, so Isak could wipe down his own body at the same time. He should’ve washed himself while he was in the shower too, but he’d been too focused on Even to remember his own body. He pointed to Even’s sweater and boxers that he’d brought in, and they got dressed.

“Which one is yours?” Isak gestured to the toothbrush holder below the mirror. There were four brushes.

“Pink.”

Isak plucked the pink brush out and grabbed the tube of toothpaste next to it, applying a drop to the bristles. He faced Even. Their eyes met again. He let out a sigh of relief. Then he opened his mouth and waited for Even to do the same. He tucked the brush into Even’s cheek and let him take it from there. 

Back in the bedroom he checked the time on Even’s phone, which he’d moved to his desk. It was almost midnight. He didn’t realize how much time they had spent in their stalemate. But now he understood a little bit more, how a whole week could pass in that bedroom without Even realizing it. He did another quick dig for a clean blanket, since the sheet over bare legs would not be enough after the warm shower. All he found was a duvet cover though, with nothing else clean to stuff it with. He flicked that out over the bed anyway, since every little bit would count. Then he took the plate of food and cup of water to the kitchen.

As much as he wanted Even to eat something, he wasn’t going to force it. Someone had been providing food and it was going untouched, so he would leave that alone. He rinsed the cup and looked in the refrigerator for another option. The shelves inside weren’t labeled but they had distinct personalities; he assumed the nearly empty one was Even’s. He silently asked for forgiveness from one of the other roommates and stole a carton of chocolate milk. He poured some out and took the cup back to the bedroom.

Even had returned. He stood at the edge of his bed, and his fingers were lightly grazing the duvet cover. Isak announced himself. “Clean bed, clean Even.” Two very important accomplishments for the evening. Even nodded. Isak walked to his side and held out the cup. “Please drink some milk. You need the calories.” Even took it.

While he drank, Isak spit out his plan: “I’m going home. Ophelia needs to be walked. I’ll be back here tomorrow, shortly after breakfast.” He hadn’t realized he’d had a plan, not really thinking about anything beyond predicting the next step Even was going to take. But there it was: he’d come back tomorrow and see how many more steps they could take.

Even gasped when he finished the milk. Isak reached out for the cup before Even could catch his breath. Even glanced at him, but could not hold his gaze. He turned to the window and cleared his throat.

“Thank you for what you’ve done. But please, do not come back here.”


	27. Isak

He texted Noora as soon as he left. _He showered and drank some milk. I put clean sheets on his bed. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. I hope you’ll be home to let me in._

She replied just before he got off the bus at his apartment. _Yes. Thank you, Isak._

It was past midnight by then. Technically he’d be back later that morning. The mere thought made him yawn, but he knew he had to do it. No matter what Even demanded.

He’d heard the request to not return, but he ignored it. He’d taken the cup back to the kitchen and slipped out of the apartment, not even saying goodbye. He felt like he was lying to Even, leaving him to believe that Isak, because he didn’t resist, wasn’t going to come back. He wondered if Even was relieved, if he was crawling into his bed with a lighter heart because he’d achieved one last thing that night: completely pushing Isak away.

It might hurt when Isak shows up. Again. But this was one of the rare moments where it was better to delay the pain for a little bit, and sleep soundly with a lie.

Ophelia was waiting patiently for him at the door. When he came in she sniffed his legs thoroughly. He didn’t come home with the sweat and alcohol of a club or bar; he’d brought home Even. She was preoccupied with smelling him, so Isak was able to easily leash her and lead her out for a quick loop.

She stuck to his side more than usual. Back indoors she took a drink of water, but then resumed tailing him as he prepared for bed. She followed his jeans to his hamper, then when she was satisfied she hopped right up into his bed. Most of the time he pushed her back to her own bed, but Isak was craving the company tonight. “At least _someone_ wants to be with me.” Ophelia pawed at his comforter until she’d created an invisible nest, and circled herself into an egg. Isak ran his hand up and down her spine while he checked his phone one last time. Nothing much had happened in the real world while he was busy with Even’s, which was nice. It felt like a sign. Reality would give them a pass. Reality would put itself on hold and let them catch up.

* * *

During Ophelia’s morning walk Isak worked on a plan. He didn’t have time to really consider what he was doing when he was at Even’s; everything had been instinctual, similar to how he’d taken care of Ophelia when he first brought her home. He’d watched her, thought about what she would need, and then immediately met those needs. He had made three trips to the pet supply store in a single day. At the moment, Even held as much mystery as a dog, and Isak was just as desperate to make him feel comfortable and safe and healthy. If he could, though, he’d like to avoid the scramble that usually accompanied such desperation.

He didn’t have anything planned for the weekend, though he rarely did anyway. With nothing to cancel, all he had to think about was how he wanted to fill it. Back home he packed two tote bags of supplies: clean clothes for himself and Even, laundry detergent, baking soda, toiletries, phone charger, and a book for good measure. He hadn’t read a book in ages, but who the fuck knew what this weekend was going to turn into.

Isak took a proper shower and got dressed. He pulled on a pair of colorful socks to match Even’s. He topped off Ophelia’s water bowl and promised he’d be back for her regular walk. Then, right before he left, he texted Noora. _On my way. Be there by 9._ She sent a thumbs up emoji in confirmation.

He was much more calm on this trip over. He stopped on the way to get coffee for himself and some pastries for breakfast, spending some time in front of the display case trying to guess what Even would like. He doubted he would actually eat it, but he wanted at least to send a message with the food. _I am thinking about you. I am never not thinking about you._ At Even’s building Noora buzzed him in with barely a hello. 

He got a little nervous once he reached their door, simply because he remembered he hasn’t seen Noora since the benefit. Back then they were barely acquaintances, a curator and a journalist, brought together by Even. Now they were brought together again by Even, but so much had changed in the meantime. He was more than a curator, and she was more than a journalist. And they were both in much more casual outfits.

“Hi Isak.”

“Hi.”

Noora opened the door all the way and let him step inside. “Thank you for coming over last night. I’m sorry I was short with you when you called, but—“

Isak held up a hand to stop her apology. It wasn’t necessary. “I understand. You were just trying to take care of him.” She nodded. Isak set down his bags and took off his coat.

“I haven’t seen him yet today. I usually check in on him before I go to work but I’m actually taking a weekend so….”

“Okay. I’d like to spend the day with him, if that’s all right? I know it looks like I’m about to move in, but I figured I could help him clean up a bit more, eat something, talk. I’ll try not to get in your way.”

“That’s fine. You can stay as long as you’d like. Eskild is sleeping, and he usually doesn’t wake up until the afternoon. Then I think he has work tonight. I’ll probably just be in my room reading.”

Isak nodded. He noticed then that they were whispering, and that they hadn’t moved away from the door. Perhaps it was rude to discuss the situation as if Even weren’t there, or as if he were a child, a dog, too dumb to understand spelled-out words. “Where is your washing machine? I figured I could do some of his laundry while he sleeps, if he’s still doing that.”

“Oh, yes, thank you. We have a room down the hall.” Noora pointed to the front door but walked back into the apartment. Isak followed, not quite sure he was going in the right direction. She went to the kitchen and grabbed something from the wall. “Here’s a spare set of keys. This is our door, and this is the laundry room. You can use them while you’re here, but please don’t take them if you leave.” She pointed out the individual keys then offered the ring to Isak.

“Thank you.”

“Um, if you need anything else, just ask. Or just help yourself. Whatever Even needs. I’ve gotten used to sharing with him, so I don’t mind.”

“Thanks.” Isak’s list of demands ended there, and he didn’t know if there was anything else they should talk about. He had a lot more questions in general, but none were quite as important as seeing how Even was doing right then. He tried to excuse himself, thumbing over his shoulder toward the bedrooms. “So, I’m….”

“Yes, go.” Noora shooed him away.

Connecting with Noora gave him a boost of confidence for what he was about to do, so he pocketed the keys and went back to the hallway to grab his bags with a determined step. When he returned to Even’s room he didn’t bother knocking.

This time Even lifted his head to witness the intruder. He greeted Isak with a rough groan. “Isaaaaaak.”

Isak dropped his bags at the end of Even’s bed. “Turns out you landed a stage five clinger. Congratulations.” He was so confident that he went for a joke. It was not received well. Even drew his sheet over his face and groaned again, but it wasn’t the usual groan that a cheesy line deserved. It was earnest disappointment that Isak had shown up. That he’d appeared with a joke only made it worse. Isak deflated completely, and then he was back to staring at Even in bed with no idea what to do next.

Isak took the keys out of his pocket and dropped them into one of the bags. Then he crawled onto Even’s bed. Even was on the side closer to his desk, so Isak went to the other and laid down on his back, imitating Even’s position just on top of the sheet instead of under it. “You have a nice bed.” Isak almost added that he understood why Even would want to spend a whole week in it, but he bit his tongue. He was making jokes because he was at a loss for anything else, and he felt like he had to fill the silence that Even created. The jokes would just spawn more silence though, so he kept his mouth shut and considered alternatives.

There were the questions, of course, but if he’d learned anything over the last month, he knew now that it took a certain amount of finesse to ask a question of Even in order to get the answer he wanted. His language and timing needed to be precise, and his purpose true, because Even had the ability to see right through poorly disguised intentions. He lied there and tried to figure out what he had to say in order to hear what he needed to hear.

For a while it seemed like it had to be nothing. He had to say nothing for now. He just needed to be there, next to Even, not saying anything. That would, at least, keep things neutral. He’d rather be quiet and be allowed in Even’s bed, than be loud and get kicked out. Though “allowed” was a generous term for what Even was doing for him. Groaning his disappointment, covering his face, and ignoring Isak didn’t count as consent. Isak was willfully ignoring Even’s behavior though. He was resisting. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he didn’t.

So he lied there. He listened for the change in breathing that would tell him Even had fallen asleep. He knew what it sounded like because he would listen for it in other men, though not for the same reason. It didn’t come from Even. He was too still, too stiff, too controlled, to be sleeping.

So Isak sat up. He crawled to the end of the bed and dug the two pastries out of it. He was hungry, and he knew Even must be as well. He returned to Even’s side and evaluated the situation. Even was flat on his back, hands above his head, holding the sheet taut over his body. Isak rose to his knees, shuffled close, and went for it: he slung one leg over Even’s and straddled his hips, lowering himself gently. Another groan. Isak pulled on the sheet; it popped free of Even’s fingers with little force, and he tugged it down to Even’s chest. Even was awake, alert, and meeting his gaze. Isak got excited. “You’re at the café. The barista is flirting with you, hard, because you are a fucking gorgeous man and they don’t want you to leave. They offer you a pastry for free. They recommend the cinnamon buns and the strawberry Danish. Because you are, in addition to gorgeous, a kind man, you accept their offer and choose one to go. You will later eat it with another gorgeous man but the barista doesn’t need to know this. They just need to know which one you would choose. So.” Isak held up the bag.

Even looked past it, holding eye contact with Isak. It was a little unsettling, because he felt like Even was expecting more from him, but he held his ground, sticking to the story. “All you need to do is choose between the cinnamon bun and the strawberry Danish.”

It took a long ten seconds before Even looked at the bag, and then another thirty seconds while he made a decision. Then he croaked out a “Strawberry.”

“Excellent choice.” Isak commented with a heavy exhale. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath. Isak dropped the bag onto Even’s chest and fished out their breakfast. Even brought his arms down, but before he could pick up the pastry for himself, Isak pulled off a chunk and presented it to Even’s mouth.

Even frowned. “You don’t have to feed me.”

“Oh? You’ll eat on your own?” Isak couldn’t resist the sarcasm. He wanted to make the point if only to prove Even’s progress, and he was so desperate for that that he would risk making him angry. 

He received a “Fuck you” in response, but it was soft, a purposeful whisper. Even plucked the piece from Isak’s fingers and ate it. While he chewed he grabbed the rest of the Danish that Isak had taken hostage. “Eat your own shitty cinnamon bun.”

Isak squeaked and his heart soared.

* * *

Despite their unconventional positions, they managed not to make a mess of crumbs in Even’s bed. When they were done Isak climbed off. “I need something to drink.” He didn’t ask if Even wanted anything, but he went to the kitchen and brought back two cups of water anyway. Even was sitting up when he returned, most likely to prevent Isak from mounting him again. He accepted the cup and drank it steadily.

When they were done Isak placed both cups on the desk. Even fell back onto his pillow. “We both sleep on the same side of the bed,” Isak remarked. He walked around to the other side. This time he pulled back the duvet cover and sheet so he could work his way into Even’s cocoon. It felt strange getting into bed fully clothed, but maybe that was just because he was sober. Drunk Isak had definitely done that many times before.

Even didn’t respond to Isak’s comment, but Isak was okay with that. He didn’t think Even was going to all of a sudden carry a conversation as soon as he had teased him about breakfast. He just didn’t take the silence as a snub. “The left side is like a whole new world.” Isak slid in toward the middle and turned onto his stomach, He crossed his arms and rested his head on them, in lieu of a pillow. Even stayed flat on his back, facing the ceiling, and Isak took the opportunity to admire his profile. 

He looked better, in the light, and still somewhat fresh from the shower. His hair was a mess and skin a bit sallow, but a hot shower wasn’t a miracle worker. He wondered if Even felt any better. Again, not expecting any miracles, he just wanted to be moving in the right direction. At least the sheet wasn’t pulled over his face again. At least he was letting Isak look at him.

“Ophelia could smell you on me last night. She slept on your side—this side of the bed. She misses you. Or at least she misses your shampoo. Probably also you, though. I dunno. She’s hard to read sometimes.”

Just like Even. His face remained passive. But that didn’t stop Isak from talking to him, or his dog. He kept going, telling Even about some of the weird things she did when he’s had other guests stay over, or when they ran into Geir that one time in the park. “He’s not a dog person.”

Isak also talked about the museum, about work. In part, he wanted to show that Even’s incident wasn’t anything of note anymore, but Isak also just wanted to share what his days had been like. He had, of course, been worrying about Even, but he’d also managed to keep up appearances with his productivity. He told Even about Camilla’s new exhibit, and her idea for a touring art festival. “Make the Greats. Or something else that rhymes. It’s a good idea, ambitious. I think we did something similar a few years ago but it went way over budget and then people just…avoided talking about it like it was a plague. But now that it’s Camilla’s idea, she thinks she can do it properly. And I’m sure she could. I don’t know where she’ll find the staff for it, but she’s right in that we need to think outside the city. People travel for museums!” As Isak got more passionate about what he was talking about, he pushed himself up on his elbows and let his voice carry to the room, not just Even’s ear. Maybe it was because Even was so quiet, or because he was actually surrounded by paintings, still, that Isak felt like he’d found his audience. But then he glanced at Even and noticed his eyes: they were wide open and darting about. Even was seeing too much even though he was technically just looking at a bare ceiling. There were bigger problems than Isak’s museum. They loomed above him, coming at him from every direction.

And Isak knew this. It was why he was there. But he’d taken the opportunity to ignore it, and pretend things were back to normal. He stopped talking and dropped back down, folding his arms again. Maybe if he were quiet it would help. Maybe if he were quiet it would be one less thing.

He went back to just admiring Even’s profile. He reached one hand out and brushed the hair at his temple, slowly combing a small section into order. He added in alternating soft strokes along the outside of Even’s ear. He wanted to see if that would help soothe Even the way it did Ophelia, if a constant pressure and motion would rock him closer to sleep. As much as he was staying in bed, Even clearly wasn’t sleeping. If he were a dog the ear massage would knock him out in about five minutes. But he was Even. And because Isak was Isak, and he hadn’t gotten much sleep himself the night before, his own eyes fluttered shut first, his hand dropping to rest on Even’s shoulder.

* * *

Isak woke up a couple of hours later, slowly. He felt good. He’d shifted from his stomach to his side, his head still propped up on a folded arm, but the rest of his body was curled into Even. And Even’s had done the same. His eyes were closed, he was sleeping, but he was facing Isak, and his sugar-coated breath warmed the space between them. The unconscious move thrilled Isak, and he had to suppress a small gasp when he realized what they’d done.

He wanted to close the gap, shift close enough to kiss Even, or hold the hands that were fisted into his chest. But he knew sleep was important, and he didn’t want to disturb it. Isak watched Even a little bit, to gauge how deep his sleep was, and then tested some very gradual moves toward the other edge of the bed. His coffee hadn’t managed to keep him awake, but now he had to pee.

It was almost disorienting, once he’d managed to creep out of the bed and around the piles of clothes, to walk out into a strange apartment. He’d gotten used to the bedroom, but now he was out in the open and on his own. Behind enemy lines. He went to the bathroom, relieved himself, and scurried back to the bedroom, hoping he wouldn’t be spotted by the roommates. God, he hadn’t done that little maneuver in years. He was rarely without underwear, and right now he was fully clothed, but in that moment he was so grateful for the ability to walk around his own apartment naked. He promised himself he would take advantage of that situation more often.

When he reentered the bedroom he noticed that it still smelled, as to be expected. His nose had adjusted to it, or at least had been preoccupied with Even’s clean scent while he was close to him, but now the chemical air hit him anew. It reminded him of the studio in the basement of the museum, where restoration work was done. He scanned the room for the source and found the paint supplies. They were generally contained to one corner, but there were open bottles and tubes scattered about. He tiptoed over and started tidying up.

Once all of the errant caps were unearthed and screwed tight he left the supplies in the corner. Isak wasn’t sure how Even wanted them stored, but at least they weren’t leaking anymore. Then he moved on to the clothes. He found Even’s laundry bag and sorted enough for two loads: the duvet and a selection of comfortable casuals. Work clothes were not the priority at the moment. He managed to do this quietly enough to not disturb Even; he was still sleeping when Isak slipped back out with the laundry bag, detergent, and keys.

Over the next few hours Isak made slow progress with Even’s room. He made some executive decisions on the care of his clothes, tossing some irreparably stained pieces and putting a few to the side for the dry cleaners. He found more dishes that needed to go back to the kitchen, and even swept the floor without managing to wake him. As the laundry cycles finished he folded the clothes and organized his closet. For a final touch, he opened two boxes of baking soda and hid them in the room to absorb any lingering smells.

While he waited for the final load to finish drying, he went to the kitchen to see if there was anything he could make for Even’s dinner. Since nothing magically appeared on Even’s shelf overnight, Isak started a grocery list, trying to remember what kind of food Even had picked out or at least mentioned when they’d gone shopping that one time before. He could probably just order something in for tonight, and then he would try to convince Even to go out with him tomorrow. He took note of what else the roommates had in stock, to get a sense for the general skill level. Perhaps his shelf was empty because he didn’t know how to cook. Maybe they could practice together.

He went to get the last load of laundry from the dryer, and used the blue couch as a folding station. There was a small dissonance being in the strange living room but smelling his own laundry detergent, but that was bound to happen when he let his world mix with someone else’s. He’d get used to it. He flicked Even’s last pair of jeans out and folded them into a neat square, topping off the pile. Then he carried it back to the bedroom.

He almost dropped the clothes when he saw that Even was sitting up. Not only was he sitting up, he had gotten out of bed and then sat back down on top of the covers. He was sitting on the edge, facing his desk. He was waiting. He had been waiting for Isak. 

“Just finished the last load. We can put the duvet back in the cover.”

The sudden focus of attention that Even was directing at him made him nervous. He’d gotten comfortable in that bedroom, just being next to Even. Now he didn’t know how to act once eyes were on him. He finished putting Even’s clothes away and pulled out the clean comforter.

“What are you doing?” Even’s voice was still rough.

“Everything was dirty, so I did some laundry while you slept. You can put pants on now, too.” He went back to the closet to find a pair.

“No, Isak. What are you doing here. Why are you here?”

Isak turned to the closet, as if the answer was in there. Then he turned back to face Even. Sitting on the bed Even was slightly taller than Isak, and the height difference made him sound more imposing than usual. In general Isak was impressed by Even but now it rendered him speechless. He swallowed. He was scared. He didn’t know what the right answer was, but he knew how important it was that he gave it.

“I asked you to leave.”

“I don’t want to leave. I want to be here, with you.”

If it wasn’t right, at least it was the truth.

“Isak, we can’t do this. We can’t do this anymore. I don’t want you here.”

“Why?” Isak felt like a child, asking that question. It annoyed Even the way a child asking a parent that question would. His mouth went tight and his eyes darkened. Even didn’t answer.

Isak felt a flare of anger in his chest, anger at Even’s insistence on something that didn’t make sense. He got angry that Even wasn’t explaining why. But the anger faded as the silence wore on.

“You have to say it. You have to explain. I’m not going to leave here on a whim. I…I care about you. I’m concerned about you. Something happened and I don’t know what it was, or is—“

“It has nothing to do with you.”

Isak scoffed. “I think I get to be the one who decides that.” He tossed the pants onto the bed. “Besides, you walked into _my_ museum. You licked _my_ painting. Maybe we’re about to break up or maybe we weren’t anything at all but in the very least I deserve an explanation for _that_.”

Even was clearly ready to throw their non-relationship away, so Isak played his last card. If he wasn’t going to respect Isak’s demands as a partner, he’d still have to answer to Édouard Manet’s. There was another flare of anger that made Isak stand up straight and cross his arms. He took a step closer to the bed, to cement his challenge.

Even dropped his eyes. His hands were clasped in his lap. He remained silent, and in that time Isak watched him slowly shrink into himself. His knuckles were white with tension, and he started to breathe heavily.

“Even….” Isak didn’t know whether he was trying to comfort him or coax him. He took another step closer.

There was silence, and then there was a shudder, a deep breath that shook. Even’s face shot up, and his eyes found Isak’s immediately. They were fiery with fear. “I can’t. I can’t! I can’t explain it. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t…I don’t _know_. _I don't know_.” Even used all of the air in the room to yell. Isak had to gasp because there was nothing left for him.

Even brought his hands up to his face again, hiding, and then fell forward. Isak ran to him, afraid Even would fall completely over, headfirst into his desk or all the way to the floor. He caught his doubled-over form and shoved him completely in the opposite direction. Even was laid out on his back with a garbled choke. He covered his face again and cried.

Isak did the same thing as yesterday: without thinking, he climbed into the bed near Even’s head and wormed his hands under Even’s armpits. He was heavy but limp, so Isak hefted him up until his legs cleared the edge of the bed and he was leaning back into Isak’s chest.

This is how he held Ophelia during a thunderstorm. This is how he held Even during a deluge.

* * *

He had to leave. Ophelia was waiting. “I have to go. But I’m coming back,” he whispered into Even’s ear, while he unwound his arms. Even leaned forward, supporting himself and setting Isak free. Isak moved quickly, but not so quickly that it looked like he was running away. “I’m coming back.” He left his tote bag of clothes on the floor, but took the other one, with the keys and detergent. “I’m coming back.”

Isak texted Noora on the way back to his apartment. _Sorry had to run home to walk the dog. Keys were in my bag and I forgot to leave them behind, but I’ll be back to stay the night. I’ll let myself in, okay?_ He didn’t feel like asking her permission, but he also wanted to respect her rules. Even might not have a valid reason to kick him out, but Noora would. He sent a second message in an attempt to endear him to her. _I’m bringing back pizza too. Do you want a special kind?_

Halfway through his walk with Ophelia Noora responded with a link to a specific pizzeria. _He likes their four cheese._

He fed Ophelia and refreshed her water, plucked the keys from the tote bag, then zipped right back out into the cold night. She wasn’t going to be happy with his disappearance but he’d deal with it later. He made a detour to pick up a pizza and carried the warm pie back to the apartment. Riccardo, delivery boy.

Noora met him in the hall. “He doesn’t want you here. He was yelling.”

“I know. I don’t care. We need to talk.” Isak kicked off his boots and squeezed around her, as if he lived there. She followed him into the living room.

“Isak….”

Isak turned around and handed her the pizza. “We’re going to talk. He _has_ to explain this. If he’s yelling, that’s still better than nothing. Eat some pizza. Put on your headphones. Oh, and your keys.” He had them clenched in his hand still, so he dropped them on top of the box.

Isak took it as a good sign that Even had been yelling after he left. He was worried Even was going to slip back into hiding, mute avoidance, maybe falling asleep, and they’d wake up right back where they’d started. But if he was angry, that meant something had to get out. He squared his shoulders and blew into the room, ready for—

“Get the _fuck_ out of here.” Even shoved himself off of the bed and lunged for Isak. Isak moved fast enough to close the door behind him, so if Even was going to push, he’d just hit wood.

But he didn’t. His rage propelled him into Isak’s face but he stopped before he made contact. Isak remained tall, and calm.

“Noora has pizza, your favorite. We can go out to the kitchen and eat. Or you can explain why the hell you’re so pissed off at me. Those are the options.”

“Fuck your options,” Even muttered. He turned away and walked back to the bed. He lifted the blanket and made to crawl back under the covers.

“Oh nooooo you don’t.” This time Isak made contact. He tackled Even from the side, and they landed on the bed, but just as a tangled mess on top. “You’re not—ungh—hiding from—me.” He wrestled the blanket out of Even’s grip and fought Even’s attempts to kick him away. After about a minute of that silly kind of wrestling that he did as a young kid, where you want to win but you don’t really want to hurt anyone, he had Even pinned. But he couldn’t see his face. He maneuvered them slightly, keeping his grip tight, until they were facing each other. Had they been naked, it would’ve counted as a sex position. But they weren’t. They were just angry. Isak made his final demand: “Talk.”

“Let me go.”

Isak released him. He wasn’t going to get an answer under duress. But he stayed on the bed, which would prevent Even from building another blanket fort to shut him out with. Even huffed when Isak retreated.

“I’m sorry I licked the painting.”

“I know you are. That’s not what I’m asking for.”

Even rolled away from him. “I told you before. I don’t know.” He pulled the pillow under his head, propping it up, building a wall instead of a fort.

For all of his confidence and demands, the moment Even turned away from him, yet again, Isak felt himself sink. He wasn’t used to this unrelenting amount of rejection, and he had to wonder if maybe Even was right. Maybe there was nothing to talk about, and Isak was just being persistent because he was stubborn. Because he was clingy. Because he didn’t know what to do when actually faced with rejection. He couldn’t take it. And he wasn’t willing to carry it home with him.

Though it wasn’t just that. Isak wasn’t going to reduce his problem to his inability to handle rejection, because that, at least, had a solution. He could swallow his pride and give up, acknowledging that this was one fight he had to lose. He could console himself with the thought that had kept him going thus far: there would always be another one. He hadn’t been stubborn and clingy before because he didn’t have to be. But now….

He looked at Even’s shoulders, still hunched even when he was lying on his side. His hair was getting long and curling at the nape of his neck. Isak reached out and ran his fingers through it, letting it spring back with a lightness that had been absent from this room for a long time. He admitted to himself, in this private moment, that there was something different about this one. Both for him, and for Even. Part of why he wasn’t taking this rejection is that deep down, he believed it wasn’t true. Even wasn’t ghosting him. He was ghosting something else, and Isak just happened to be in the way.

At least, that’s what he was trying to convince himself was happening. No matter what was actually happening, he wouldn’t know, because Even wasn’t giving him the details that he needed to properly evaluate the situation. He needed historical context. Yes, _that_ is why he was being stubborn. And clingy. Context.

He ran his hand across Even’s shoulder, then shifted himself up, and closer. He wanted to touch Even, and he wanted him to be able to feel it. The angle was awkward, but he pressed his fingers into Even’s back and started to massage him. They were going to work out the knots.

Isak was relieved when Even let him do this, relaxing into the touch instead of pulling away from it. This in turn helped relax Isak, and channel his energy into something productive. It was easier when he knew that he was helping Even, and not hurting him. He adjusted them both further, pushing Even onto his stomach and kneeling above him. Isak used his own weight and gravity to slowly roll out his shoulders and upper back. He worked on those knots until his own arms got tired, and then he slowed his hands to warm, soothing strokes. He even dared to run one hand up the back of Even’s sweater so for a few minutes they were skin to skin. He craved it so much, just for himself, but he knew he couldn’t demand that touch just yet. When he withdrew his hand he was hopeful though; he’d be able to touch him again, and more. They’d get there.

He dipped his head next to Even’s. “I’m hungry. I’m going to eat some pizza.” Even’s eyes fluttered open at his voice, his breath, but he didn’t move. Isak left the room on his own.

Noora had left the pizza on the kitchen counter after having taken two slices for herself. Isak found a plate and served up two of his own. He sat at their table and took the moment as a break; he ate some pizza, checked his phone, and let himself think about something other than Even for a few minutes. He sent an email to his neighbor, confirming what time he could drop Ophelia off for the short dog-sitting gig while he was in Paris. He felt a little guilty, throwing her off her usual day with rushed walks and long absences, but perhaps the vacation at someone else’s apartment would make up for it. He let himself be hopeful that things would be closer to normal when he returned.

He had an email from Geir checking in on him, after hearing that he’d gone home sick. He was more concerned about the trip to Paris than Isak’s actual health though, so Isak sent him a short message letting him know he’d be recovered by Monday. Nothing else looked important so he tapped away from his work accounts just as someone walked into the kitchen. Isak almost choked on his bite of pizza when he noticed it was Even. “H-hi,” he managed to cough out.

Even was standing in the doorway, looking at him, but Isak couldn’t interpret his mood. So he just silently pointed to the pizza on the counter. After a moment of hesitation Even walked to it and helped himself to a late dinner. By the time Even sat down across from him, Isak had thought of something neutral to say. “Noora told me about this.” He waved his crust in the air. “It’s really good.”

Even nodded. Isak knew well enough not to expect flowing conversation, but he also wanted to avoid complete silence. “I also noticed the other day that your space in the fridge is empty. And I’m not sure which shelves are yours. But maybe we could go grocery shopping tomorrow? I was trying to remember what you liked to eat from that other trip we did but all I could think of was the stuff we bought for me.”

“I eat whatever,” Even mumbled.

“You might think that will make shopping easier for us, but it just means I’m going to try to find the most disgusting thing possible to test that statement.” Isak smiled at the thought of the challenge. Even didn’t respond, unless a bite of pizza counted as a response. “Or…when I was little I told my mom that I loved those ice cream cones, the vanilla ones with chocolate swirls, and like…you know how you are when you’re little. I was ready to commit my life to those ice creams. I loved them so much that I swore I could eat them forever and Mama went out and bought fifty boxes just to call my bluff. Maybe it was less than fifty, but she filled up our whole freezer. She even threw out the food that was already in there, to make space. At first I thought this was the most amazing thing to happen to me, but after one box I got sick.” Isak was smiling, remembering the incident, wondering how funny it would be if he just completely filled up Even’s shelf with apples. But then he noticed that Even had dropped his pizza and was staring slack-jawed at him.

“Why did she do that?”

Isak shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she got tired of me constantly asking for ice cream so she finally caved. It kind of worked, too. After I got sick I didn’t eat ice cream for two years. My dad spent a whole afternoon that summer giving away the extra ice cream to neighborhood kids.”

Isak didn’t think anything more about the story, nor of Even’s sudden interest. He went back to meal-planning, thinking of options that would be healthy and easy, stuff Even could compile on his own, during his rare trips to the kitchen. He wanted to get him some fresh ingredients but was also worried he’d come back to an entirely spoiled shelf.

Even remained quiet for the rest of their casual meal. Isak made sure he had some more water to drink, and then directed him to clean pajamas. He washed their plates and then met him back by the bed. “Since I didn’t find a toothbrush drawer, I brought my own.” He fished out his toiletries and led Even to the bathroom. They brushed their teeth together, and Even patiently waited while Isak went through an abbreviated nighttime routine. When they headed to the bedroom, Isak was surprised to see Even approach Noora’s door instead. He stopped and observed, as he had no idea what was about to happen. Even knocked.

“Even! Is something wrong?”

He cleared his throat. “Hi, no. Well, do you have an extra pillow I could borrow? For Isak?”

Noora popped her head out of her room and smiled at Isak. “Of course. Hold on.” She disappeared. Even stared at the floor while he waited. Isak ran into Even’s bedroom to hide.

He had to blink away tears that were welling up from an unexpected surge of emotion. The small gesture of kindness, the effort that Even made to welcome him into his apartment and his bed, was overwhelming. He must’ve been preparing himself for another attempt at banishment, or at least an uncomfortable night next to Even with the knowledge that he was unwanted, to be so shocked by the exact opposite. He swiped at his cheeks and tried to power through the turn of events by focusing on changing into his own pajamas. When Even walked in, spare pillow in his hand, Isak was composed. “Thank you.”

Even handed him the pillow with a shallow nod. Isak took it and went to the other side of the bed, setting himself up for the night. He stripped back the duvet cover and opened it so he could replace the blanket. It was never a graceful process, but he accomplished it with enough speed to not leave Even stranded next to his own bed. He fluttered the complete duvet out over the sheet and then went to the door to turn off the light.

Between the sheets Isak reached for him. It was a touch, and then a tug, a test to see how easily Even would move. He did. Their pillows were next to each other. Isak could see a glint in Even’s eyes, tears that reflected what little light remained. He could see the body that was ready to stop and the mind that refused to slow down. Isak tried to tip them both in his favor. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you since I’ve arrived, but I’m only going to ask for one more thing.” He pulled Even’s arm across his body. He pushed a leg between Even’s own.

“On you?”

“On me.”

In that position, Isak didn’t have to listen for Even’s breathing. He could feel it. He could understand the weight and the control and he could breathe with it.

And then, right before Even let go, Isak listened to his promise. “Tomorrow.”


	28. Even

When Even woke up, Isak was gone. He reached for his phone, in case Isak had left him a message, but then he realized that if he turned it on he’d have to face all of the other messages. He wasn’t ready for that, so he pulled his arm back to his chest. He didn’t know where his phone was anyway. He stayed in bed a little longer, curled up in the space where Isak had been, until his curiosity and bladder got the best of him. He could pee and check the time in the living room. He got out of bed and listened at the door.

Even had to pause and think. It was Sunday, right? Sunday morning? Without a job or the ability to sleep, he hadn’t been marking the days very well as they passed by. Isak had put him through the motions of a bedtime routine, but whether it had actually happened at bedtime and whether the ensuing sleep had only lasted the usual number of hours, he had no idea. He listened for the sound of his roommates so he could successfully avoid them again. If they were home and awake he would delay his bathroom trip as long as possible.

But it was quiet, so Even stepped out. Eskild’s door was open and his room was dark. He checked the clock on the wall, which had always served a more decorative than utilitarian purpose. It was almost seven. He figured it was the morning, since his body didn’t feel like it had slept through an entire day. He still felt tired, and was ready to go back to bed before he even got to the bathroom. He peed sitting down. Then he had to convince himself that washing his hands would be worth it.

Yes, because his bed was clean.

As he was leaving the bathroom he heard the buzzer. He glanced toward Noora’s room, but she either didn’t hear it or wasn’t home. It was up to him to answer. Or, he could ignore it. He could go back to bed and hope whoever it was would give up quickly. He didn’t know who would be at their door at seven in the morning, but maybe Eskild had forgotten his keys. The buzzing continued while Even worked through the potential scenarios.

Even snapped out of his internal debate when he realized that whoever was buzzing was simply leaning on the button now, filling the apartment with continuous noise. He went to answer it. “Hello?”

“It’s Isa—“ The voice cut off, or faded. But it was enough for Even to understand. Isak came back! He unlocked the door.

Even was surprised by his own excitement, and surprised that he hadn’t considered Isak’s return as the most likely scenario. He said he was coming back. Even didn’t have a reason to doubt him. But it was rare that anyone bothered to do it in the first place. Maybe that’s why he was surprised and excited: Isak was the first.

Then Even became doubly surprised and excited when he realized he was staring at the door and feeling something besides dread. The realization was new and uncomfortable and made him want to retreat to his room, but now he couldn’t. Isak was knocking. Even opened the door.

“Even!”

Even didn’t have time to register Isak’s shock because he was instantly knocked to the ground by Ophelia’s full weight hitting his knees.

“Shit! Ophelia, _off_!” Ophelia wheezed when Isak regained control of the leash and tugged her back. “Off. Sit.” She didn’t obey the command until she was close enough to Even to sit and still be able to sniff him. Even remained on the floor, reaching out to the dog, unable to resist smiling. “Sorry, I went home to walk her, and she literally pulled me all the way here. We can go. I don’t know if dogs are allowed. I think she just needed to see you and…rub on you?” Ophelia had squeezed between Even’s bent knees and dropped her shoulder so she could nuzzle into Even’s chest. “Jesus christ, Ophie.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think anyone is home. We can have pets though.”

Isak let out a sigh of relief, then dropped her leash. He stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him. “I’m sorry if we woke you but she literally wouldn’t let me leave once we got here. And it wasn’t like the usual protest where she just lies down and refuses to move…she kept doing this weird pacing thing, walking away and then lunging back toward the door. People probably thought she was possessed, and that I had zero core strength.” Isak took off his coat. Ophelia circled in Even’s open lap and settled down into a curl. “Only one of those things is true.”

Ophelia was nuzzling his crotch, so petting her took a bit more effort, pushing her head out and back. Even unclipped her leash. He didn’t notice Isak had stopped talking until the silence lasted too long. He looked up at Isak.

“You’re awake. I mean, of course you are. But you’re out of bed.”

“I had to pee.”

“What a coincidence! So did she.”

Even couldn’t interpret Isak’s tone, if there was sarcasm or silliness. And Isak stepped around them to enter the apartment so there wasn’t any body language to read either. He went back to massaging Ophelia’s head, and he kept his smile to himself. “Hi. I missed you.”

He could hear Isak in the kitchen, but he stayed on the floor with Ophelia. It was physically uncomfortable trying to cradle a hunting dog on a wood floor, but it also seemed like the much easier option compared to facing another human. All Ophelia cared about was that Even’s hands didn’t stop what they were doing, and Even let himself focus on just doing that.

Until Isak’s voice returned to the hallway. “On second thought….” Even twisted around to see him poking his head around the doorway. “I don’t want to steal your roommates’ food. Could we go out for breakfast? Maybe walk Ophelia back to my place so I can feed her too?”

“N-now?”

Isak tilted his head with a shrug. “Not necessarily. But soon. I’m hungry. She’s hungry. But she also will refuse to leave this apartment without you.”

Even’s mind flooded with excuses, his brain primed to shut down every possibility of interaction with the rest of the world. _I can’t. I’m not hungry. I’m supposed to be working. It’s too early. It’s too late. It’s too much._ But looking at Isak then, he saw how patient he was, how casual the request had been structured, so he damned up the flood. “Okay.”

“Great. If she ever sets you free, come back to your room.” Isak’s head disappeared. Even twisted back around.

“Damn, Ophie. _Both_ of you are stage five clingers.”

* * *

She was a clinger, yes, but as soon as Even shifted his weight ever so slightly, Ophelia jumped to her feet, waiting to see what his next move would be. He took his time getting to his feet. Ophelia stretched and yawned while she waited, and Even copied her once he was standing. It was another uncomfortable moment as he became more aware of his body, aware of what hurt, aware of what existed, but then he felt a little better. Looser. It was easier to turn and walk back to the bedroom like Isak wanted. Ophelia followed close behind, not bothering to sniff out the new location in favor of keeping an eye on Even.

Isak was on his bed, on his stomach and propped up on his elbows, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when Even entered. “The funny thing is, is you’ll never understand just how wild she gets when she misses you. I mean, I know she knocked you down when we came in, but the way she was _walking_.” Isak strained his neck and bugged out his eyes to demonstrate. “She damn near pulled my arm out of its socket, and then she just shut it off as soon as she saw you to curl up in your stupid lap. Yes, I’m complaining about you.” Isak pointed his bewilderment at the dog, who had poked her head out from behind Even’s legs. Then he looked back up at Even. “And now that she knows where you live, we’re fucked. Here, I picked out something comfortable to wear on the walk.” Isak pointed to his feet, the corner of the bed, where some clean clothes were folded. Even scooped them up. It was a hoodie, track pants, and underwear, practically a gym look. But considering the fact that he hadn’t left the apartment in over a week, just hitting the sidewalk was going to count as a work out. He turned to go to the bathroom. “Ophelia, stay.” Isak’s command was firm, but Ophelia followed Even into the small room.

He didn’t need the bathroom for the bathroom’s sake. He just couldn’t bear to strip down in front of Isak. It didn’t matter that Isak has seen him naked, touched him naked, been _inside_ of him…he simply didn’t want to acknowledge his own existence, and that would be more difficult to avoid if he could tell that Isak was looking at him. In the bathroom he faced away from the mirror. Ophelia sat at his feet and sniffed every piece of clothing that he pulled off and dropped to the ground.

When he went back to his room Isak was still on his bed, still on his phone. Ophelia jumped up next to him, and Even sat down on the end, not sure what else to do, and comfortable, at least, with following Ophelia’s lead. Her clinginess seemed to work both ways. After a few minutes of silence he felt Isak bouncing around behind him, and then a finger tap his hip. Even twisted around. “Can I look at your phone?”

Even shrugged.

Isak explained while he rolled off of the bed and went to his desk. “I’m going to listen to my messages and delete them.”

“Your messages?”

“I was calling you this morning while I was walking over. Or at least I was trying. It’s very possible that all you can hear is me struggling to breathe and cursing this bitch out.”

Even nodded and twisted back around to face his door. He listened to Isak tap around on his phone, and then the messages that he played on speaker. He was right, there was a lot of labored breathing and frustrated outbursts. He felt bad that he had been ignoring his phone, but that hadn’t stopped Isak or Ophelia either; they had made it to the apartment and switched over to labored and frustrated buzzing.

“If you didn’t know what I was doing it kiiiiind of sounds like I’m jerking off. Angrily. Which I would never do. Angrily, at least. And not in a voicemail message. Anyway! Deleted.” Isak walked around the bed to face Even, or at least look down at him. Even stared at Isak’s feet. He was wearing socks with van Gogh’s Starry Night on them. He twitched when Isak touched his forehead and then ran his fingers through his hair. It was a shock at first but Even sat there and let Isak do it. He knew he needed to comb his hair anyway. “I’m also…turning off most of your notifications. They’re overwhelming, and you’re on vacation.”

This was true. When Isak flashed his phone at him, he noticed that the little red numbers that had been screaming out from every app were gone. He knew the messages were still there (except for the ones Isak had deleted) but they weren’t as loud now. They’d wait for him. Isak tossed his phone onto the bed next to him and picked up more of the finger-combing with both hands. Even closed his eyes and leaned into the soothing pressure.

For the first time in a long time he didn’t feel like crying when he faced that darkness. He just felt the warmth from Isak’s fingers and the cushion from the bed. It was a relief.

Isak’s fingers made one last push through his hair, then met at the base of his neck and drifted around to his jaw. Even raised his head and opened his eyes.

“Breakfast?”

“Okay.” He stood up. Ophelia jumped off of the bed. They both followed Isak out to the living room, but he suddenly stopped and went back to the bedroom. Just as Even was about to follow him again, Isak returned.

“You forgot your wallet and phone. I don’t know where your keys are.”

Even took the very necessary items. He couldn’t remember where he’d put his keys last. “I don’t know either.”

“That’s fine. Noora showed me where the spare set is.” Isak moved faster this time, too fast for Even to bother following. He dipped into the kitchen, grabbed the keys, and circled back to Even. “We’ll look for yours later. Maybe you left them in your coat. I don’t think they were in any of your pants’ pockets, though to be honest I didn’t check all of them.” They resumed their trip to the front door.

There was a hint of familiarity in this process, where they both bundled up for the outdoors and prepared Ophelia for a walk. He did it easily because he’d done it before, just in a different hallway. Isak didn’t coddle him with the steps either; he just waited until Even was zipped up and then handed him the leash.

“You might not be my boyfriend but you are most definitely my dog-walker.”

* * *

They stopped at the same café Isak had picked up the pastries from the day before. Even stood outside with Ophelia, and they watched him buy breakfast through the big windows. He came out with two to-go cups, each with a bagged pastry balanced on top. “Let’s just focus on getting home, okay? Before these get cold.” They walked a little faster, and in silence, without conversation to distract or slow them down.

Even hesitated at the door to Isak’s apartment, though it simply looked like he was waiting for Isak to unlock it. In actuality he was struggling to take a step forward, afraid of what this world would be like. He was safe in his own apartment. He’d also been safe on the street, walking anonymously through the crowds with Ophelia by his side justifying his presence. But here he didn’t know. Inside he wouldn’t be a dog-walker anymore. And he certainly didn’t know if he could be a boyfriend…whatever that meant. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be, and he knew he had to be _something_.

He was about to drop Ophelia’s leash and Isak’s coffee and walk away, but Isak reached for his wrist just as he opened the door, preventing Even from escaping. “You first. Please go feed her.” He took the coffee back from Even as he let him and Ophelia pass. “We’ll eat in the living room.”

Maybe he could be a dog-walker for a little bit longer.

He lingered in the kitchen while Ophelia ate, then they both went to the couch to join Isak.

“Sit down before she does!” Isak nearly yelled. There was only space for one of them on the couch, though when Even sat down, Ophelia made space for herself between them anyway. Isak groaned. Ophelia put her head in Even’s lap, so Isak got the whip of her tail and her sharp toenails against his thigh. He groaned but he didn’t push her away. They ate their breakfast in a comfortable, albeit squished, silence.

When they were done with their pastries Isak collected the bags and made a trash run. Even remained trapped by Ophelia’s head. Isak returned with napkins to clean up the crumbs and sticky sugar. When he settled back into the couch he sat sideways, one knee up, facing Even, propping an arm on the back of the couch. Even had his tea in one hand, which he still had to finish, and he was petting Ophelia with the other.

“It’s tomorrow,” Isak whispered.

Even regretted making that promise last night, but he knew it had to be done. It was why Isak stayed. It was why he came back. It was why Even was there on his couch. Even wanted this. It was painful, and it was shameful, but he wanted this chance. Isak was sitting there, offering it to him, with all of the patience and understanding in the world. That hurt a little bit, too, because he didn’t deserve it. But he wanted it. And he hadn’t wanted anything in a long time. 

Even nodded. “I think….” He cleared his throat. “I think I was hiding from you because I can’t lie to you.” Even dared to glance at Isak, to see how he responded to his opening statement. He didn’t notice any change in the brief glance, but Isak didn’t even shift his weight. He was utterly still, utterly open. It almost felt worse. But Even soldiered on. “I don’t know what’s going on. I can tell you some things, but I don’t know what they are. All I know is that they hurt people. I hurt people.”

Isak remained still. Even filled the silence with a deep breath, and then continued.

“They’re phases. Zones. I lose control, and I have no idea when it’s going to happen. But it always does. Sometimes I lose control by…by not having limitations anymore. I don’t need to control anything. I just _feel_ and _go_ and _do_ and _run_. Forever. Anything, everything. No risk is too big, no consequence exists. I steal dogs. I lick paintings. I fuck strangers. Benders without drugs or alcohol, but those are usually involved anyway. And then sometimes I lose control by losing everything. All that is left is a body sandwiched between gravity and a mattress, and a mind that is just…waiting for that to go too.”

Even focused on Ophelia’s head. He traced her spots with a finger, and let his thoughts come out on their own. He didn’t have a story to craft or an excuse to solidify. There was only the truth, the only thing he could give Isak.

“Most of the time, lately, I feel fine. I was working. I was eating. I was sleeping. I was talking. And then…well, I think you saw most of it. I was doing all of that, and then I was doing everything, and then I was doing nothing. Eventually I get back to fine, but…I forget what that is. I forget what I’ve done, and I forget how I can get back to that. I forget…why.

“Noora and Eskild help. I’ve lived with them for many years because it’s the only way I could. They…they’ve saved my life many times. They make sure I come home. They make sure I eat. They do their best to make sure I don’t hurt myself, or hurt other people. Because that’s how I found them.

“About six years ago, I think, I was in a relationship with someone. It was fine, as long as I was fine, but then I lost control. I fell in love. I bought a ring. I tried to buy a house. And while I was doing that, I was also fucking their coworker. I’d go to their office and fuck them over their desk while my girlfriend was down the hall answering emails.

“Sometimes these phases are just…fun. Exciting and intense and powerful and…and I can live through them. Pretend it’s normal. This one though, it was too much, for too long, and it was the final straw. The coworker was fired. I probably would’ve been arrested if my girlfriend hadn’t pitied me enough to save me one last time. But then that was it.

“So when I was alone, and in impossible debt, I was completely dependent on the help of two strangers. Because, by then I’d already hurt my family, my friends. I’d quit my old job during an earlier ‘phase’ and was trying to survive on freelance work. I’d said…horrible things to my parents. Over and over again. I haven’t talked to them in, I don’t know, a decade. And I don’t think I ever will. In phases before I had pushed away everyone else I’d known. Any professional contacts I could salvage for work I managed because they were simply out of reach; I was just a vendor, an email address, with an unreliable response rate. They didn’t see what I was doing. But everything else…my…my whole life, is simply irredeemable. All I do is hurt people and run away from it, because I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t fix it. I can’t even apologize because I don’t know what I’m doing and I can’t make sure it won’t happen again. I apologize all the fucking time but it doesn’t mean anything if you can’t control it.”

Even stopped. He forced himself to stop. It was coming out too easily, he was saying too much. He lifted his hand from Ophelia’s head, and she looked up at him when he stopped. He stared back at her. He didn’t want to know how Isak was reacting, so he simply pretended he wasn’t there. Yes, he’d been talking to Ophelia this whole time. He resumed petting, and she dropped her head back into his crotch.

He almost settled into that fantasy, too, where it was just him and the dog, and she was falling asleep because he hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just petting her, keeping her safe and comfortable. The past that he’d just confessed to did not change her future. It was a fantasy, and it was almost true, because she didn’t move.

But then he heard Isak sniffle.

And Even had to look at him. He couldn’t admit to all of the pain he’d caused and then continue to ignore it as it was happening again. Especially not to Isak. So he looked at Isak, made himself hold his gaze, be held accountable for the tears that were falling slowly down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know,” Isak whispered back.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to do what I’ve done before. No one deserves it, but especially not you.”

Even started crying then, slow silent tears that matched Isak’s, as he thought of all the ways he had hurt everyone he knew, and how Isak was joining their ranks. He didn’t want Isak to cry. He wanted to reach out and wipe away the tears, but he knew that they were there simply because he was. Because he existed, and because he told the truth about that existence. The tears would go away if he did. That was how you solved the problem: you remove the source of the pain.

Even shifted his weight, getting ready to stand. But instead of jumping down and getting ready to follow him, Ophelia growled. She held her weight in his lap and growled.

Isak blinked, and quickly swiped at the new tears that fell. “She knows. She knows what you’re going to do.”

“Wh—“

“She’s not going to let you run away from me again.”

“Isak….” Even slumped back into his seat.

Isak sniffled again, but he straightened his spine. “I heard you. I understand what you are saying. I know it’s the truth because you told me it is, and also because it fits everything else that I’ve learned about you while we’ve been together. But this is not the time for you to leave. You are not done. I am not done with you. Ophelia most certainly is not. I’m not sure she’ll ever be.”

Even nodded down into his chest. Ophelia had stopped growling but didn’t move. He dared pet her again. Message received.

“I have…a thousand more questions for you.” Isak sighed. “Would you answer them for me?”

“You won’t like the answers.”

“That’s not why I’m asking them.”

“Fine.”

“Have you talked to a professional about your phases?”

Even shook his head. “When I was a teenager my parents tried. They tried to get me to go get…consultations. But I refused.”

“What happens when you get sick, like a cold? Do you go to a general doctor? Do you have your assigned one?”

“Yes.”

“Would you be willing to go see them? You said you hadn’t been tested in the last year, and I’m concerned about your physical health. I think you should be checked for, y’know, STDs, and also any deficiencies. I’m not sure the pastries and pizza are really helping you right now.” Isak moved his hand from the back of the couch and pressed it over Even’s. For a brief moment they were both petting Ophelia.

“I’ll…try to make an appointment.”

“I can do it for you, if you’d like.”

Even nodded.

“Now seems like a good time for a check-up anyway, since you’re on vacation. When do you have to go back?”

“I don’t know. Tor, my boss, said I had two weeks but left it open-ended.”

“Well that’s—oh, is this your whole thing with nontraditional vacations?”

Even let out a heavy exhale. “Yeah, so…Tor knows too. Sort of. I’ve gone through a few phases while working at the agency and he’s tried to accommodate when I end up not, uh, not getting out of bed. I can work on the weekends, and work overnight and be productive when I can be, and then when things change he sends me home.”

“Wait, your boss knows about your depression?”

Even’s head snapped up. No one had ever called it that, at least not to his face. He knew that’s what it was, that was the only logical word for a week spent in bed, for the darkness that consumed him, but he was not ready for anyone else to know it too. “N-no. It’s not—I don’t—We don’t talk about it like that. It’s just…a vacation. He decides it’s a good time for a vacation. And I just…come back when I’m ready. So it’s two weeks, or it’s more. Or less. I can do some work at home, too.”

Isak’s brow was furrowed. He was confused by this arrangement. Even could tell he was trying to figure out which follow-up question he should ask first. “Well…at least he…sort of knows.” He waved his hand through the air in front of him. “Um, okay, so. You have a flexible calendar at the moment. I’ll schedule something for later this week.”

“Okay.”

They were both quiet for a bit, but the forehead wrinkle returned.

“Did you have other questions for me?” Even wasn’t particularly interested in answering them, but he offered the prompt in order to smooth away the wrinkles.

“I do, but they’re all tied up in…bigger things. I don’t want to overwhelm you or scare you. And I don’t know how urgent they are. Like maybe I should save them for after your appointment. One thing at a time.”

“I appreciate the consideration Isak, but I also don’t…the whole point of this was to set you free from all of it. I want you to know so you can go.”

Isak let out a bark of a laugh, so loud that Ophelia raised her head in alarm. “Oh fuck you Even. That’s some bullshit. You are not sitting on my couch because I’m going to leave.” The wrinkles disappeared, but they were replaced with a set mouth and burning glare that made Even drop his gaze. “But fine, let’s do this. Look at me.”

He did.

“I know we never had this conversation, and it was dumb of me to assume we were exclusive, but have you been fucking anyone else while we were together?”

“No!”

“Because I took you bare—“

Even held up his hands to stop Isak. “I know. But no, I’ve only seen you. From that first day at the museum, only you. I cheated on my girlfriend, I…I used to fuck literally anyone. Whoever would have me. But I stopped. I stopped for a whole year. And then there was you. Only you.” Even’s voice broke. He wanted to climb over Ophelia, climb into Isak’s lap, or drop to his knees. “But Isak, I can’t—“

“Even, don’t. Don’t.” Isak stood up. He took a step back.

“Isak.” Even stood, not caring about Ophelia’s growls, nor tumbling her out of his lap. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then _don't_.”

“But it’s what I _do_.”

He didn’t want to yell. He didn’t want to yell at Isak. But he had to make him understand. He told him his history because history repeats itself. And this was the only way to protect Isak from it.

Isak growled. “Not with _me_. I understand what happened. But we’re—“ Isak’s voice broke too. “That’s not going to happen to us.”

“You—“

“No. Stop talking. You literally can’t say anything that will convince me otherwise.” Isak voice was low, and shaking, but he delivered his decision with force. “I am here to support you and care for you while we work toward…toward something more stable. I need you to respect that relationship right now, and not tell me you’re going to fuck someone else over a desk. Unless you’re going to do that! Even! Are you going to do that?”

“No.” He bit back another _But_.

“Great. Thank you. I’m not seeing anyone either, if you were curious.” Isak was calming down, but still spoke with a bite. “I was tested again and I’m clean and I have no intention of seeing anyone else. And that’s how it _works_. I have a history of multiple sexual partners, I have a lifestyle for it, but I saw you on that day, that perfect day at the museum, and I never went back. I was _sold_.” The last word had been dug up from somewhere deep. He let his statement linger in the air between them. Ophelia, still on the couch, observed it too. Then he took a deep breath. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to not get angry about something that hasn’t happened.”

There it was, again, the logic that shamed Even for thinking the worst and letting it get in the way. He dropped his head and tried, really tried to avoid thinking of the future where he broke Isak’s heart. It was difficult looking past something he considered an inevitability, but he knew he owed it to Isak to try. And he knew Isak was being honest as well, that he truly believed Even wouldn’t do it. The expectation though, the potential for that failure, loomed over him. The room filled with that heavy fog, that suffocating blanket. He wished Isak wasn’t there to witness it, to suffer under it as well.

“Are you done with your tea?” Isak had stepped closer to him, a hand half-raised toward the cup he still held in his own. Even was shocked by the innocent question and could barely answer.

“Y-yeah.”

Isak gently pulled the cup from Even’s grip and walked around him to the kitchen. Even stayed in the living room, feeling how the fog had lifted with the simple change of tone, but was still hovering at a distance. He wondered if it would ever dissipate. He wondered how many cups of tea it would take to go away completely.

* * *

When Isak returned from the kitchen he seemed to be done asking questions. Or at least those questions. Instead, he asked if Even wanted to go food shopping. “To be honest I’ve been craving that ice cream ever since I mentioned it to you, so I wouldn’t mind picking up a box for myself. Might even share, if I’m feeling generous.” When he walked around Even he ran a hand across his shoulders and then down to give his bicep a light squeeze. Then he dipped down to pet Ophelia.

Even had to shake off the shock of seeing Isak get so angry, and then recover so quickly. Or, if not recover, then at least put their discussion, the emotions they’d built up between them, to the side. How was he not drowning in them? How was he moving without all of that weight? Had it always been like that?

Even followed more of Isak’s soft touches and small words back to the hallway, to the door. Ophelia let him go, trailing him but not growling. They bundled up again and Isak grabbed a few empty tote bags for the store. They both said goodbye to Ophelia with promises that Isak would be back to walk her like normal.

At the store they walked the aisles side-by-side. Even pointed to familiar foods and ran through a mental list of things he knew how to cook. “Noora makes sure I get the basics. You know, something, when I’m….”

“Depressed.”

He still couldn’t say it, but it was true. “Yes.”

“That’s good. I always make sure I have a variety of frozen dinners at my place because at the end of the day, when I don’t even have the energy to order something, I need something quick and easy right there.”

Even knew that was true—he’d seen Isak’s freezer—but he also knew that Isak was saying that for his benefit, giving him advice without directly telling him how he should be doing things. From someone else it might feel condescending, but Even just took it for the obvious effort Isak was putting into caring for him, and listened in appreciation. They selected some of Even’s favorites as well as new things to try, in case he got bored. They picked out basic vegetables and fruit, mostly apples, but splurging on some pears and clementines. Isak even got his box of ice cream.

“I’ll write my name on it and keep it in your freezer.”

Back at Even’s apartment, Isak did just that. He asked Even if he wanted to cook anything for a late lunch, but Even wasn’t hungry. He had enough energy to unpack the bags and go to the bathroom, but then all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed. He looked to Isak for permission.

“Of course. I’ll join you in a little bit.”

His room looked different when he stepped back into it. Maybe it finally hit him how much cleaning Isak had done, or he just wasn’t used to being away from it for so long. But he took a small tour of it readjust. He hadn’t cleaned his brushes properly, so they were still crusty and abused on the floor. The canvases were still lined up along the wall, and the grass was finally dry. He thought about the game he’d been working on, not recalling where he’d left off. It didn’t really matter though, because he had no interest in finding out.

Even opened his closet and saw everything organized just like Isak’s was. What he was wearing was comfortable enough for a nap, so he didn’t change, but he thought about the next outfit he’d wear. He had a lot of clean options to choose from, now. He noticed that his tuxedo was tucked down at one end, still in its bag from the dry cleaners. He needed to pay Isak back for that. And for all of the food he’d been providing. Even pulled his phone and wallet out of his pockets. He should add Isak on Vipps, but he still didn’t want to open anything on his phone. He dropped everything onto his desk instead. Maybe tomorrow, when he had more energy, and fresh clothes, and a full breakfast, and…. 

Even climbed into bed. He stayed on his side, but turned to face the middle of the bed, where Isak would be. He wanted to wait for him. He tried. He had to close his eyes, but he tried to wait.

* * *

When he woke up the room was dark, save for the dull flicker of light coming from behind him. He rolled over and found Isak next to him, scrolling through his phone. Even’s phone was facedown on his chest. Isak clicked his off when he noticed Even, which plunged them into true darkness. “Hey.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost time for me to leave. Ophelia waits for no man.”

“Okay.” He didn’t mind not getting a precise time; all Even really needed was Isak’s context. Isak was there now, and he wouldn’t be soon.

“I found your doctor and made an appointment for you at lunchtime on Thursday. I’ll meet you at the office.”

“You don’t have to go.”

“I’d like to. And it’s a good excuse to get out of the office. I’m also kind of curious. I like my doctor just fine, but….” Isak moved, probably to shrug, but Even wasn’t sure. He shimmied closer to Isak until he could feel his breath hitting Isak’s shoulder. “I also….”

Even looked up. He was close enough that he could see Isak swallow.

“I have to go to Paris tomorrow.”

“Paris?”

“For work. Trying to finalize that deal that was pissing me off a couple of weeks ago. That’s still pissing me off. But it’s a short trip. I’ll be back Tuesday night.”

“Okay.”

“Do….” Isak turned his head and ended up speaking into Even’s hair. “Do you think you’ll be okay?”

Even didn’t answer him. He couldn’t.

“You have food. You should eat when you’re hungry. And drink water. Maybe take a shower tomorrow. You don’t have to, but…you smell nice when you do. Fuck, that was stupid. But showers are good. Healthy. Warm.”

Even felt Isak’s breath on his skin, and then his lips as he talked about showers, and then a kiss when he’d finally given up on explaining the benefits of said showers. It was light and innocent, slight pressure against his forehead and then a release. When it was gone, Even realized he wanted it back. He looked up again. “I’ll be okay until you get back.”

He didn’t know if it was the truth. He wouldn’t know if it was the truth. But it was what he needed to say, for Isak and for himself.

“I’m going to call you, and text you, because I’ll miss you.” Isak slid Even’s phone off of his chest and into the crevice between their bodies. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to look at your phone. But I’d like to hear from you. You can call and text me, too, if you want. Any time. Night or day. I’ll answer.”

“Okay.”

“And then I’m coming back. I’m coming back to you as soon as I can.”

In the darkness they both moved. Even tipped his head up. Isak rolled to his side. There wasn’t space between them anymore. Isak’s left hand, rough and warm, found Even’s jaw, rough and warm. They pressed their faces together, barely angled to avoid their noses, but also barely angled to let their noses touch first. So when they pressed further, tipping up more, their lips were ready.

Even was ready, and he remembered how, to kiss. Slight pressure, then release. That was his answer. He could.

They kissed three times. Three releases. After the third Isak slid his hand from Even’s face and pushed himself away. Isak rolled out of the bed and cool air rolled into the space like a breeze. Even rolled away from it, to avoid it, and to follow the sounds Isak made as he gathered his bag, bumping around in the dark. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Isak leave, wouldn’t have to see the shifting shadows or the sudden light from the living room when he opened the door. He listened for it, just to know that it was happening. Before it did, though, he heard something else. A whisper.

“Je t’aime.”

Then there was light. Then he was gone.


	29. Isak

Noora was on the couch when he left Even’s bedroom. She twisted around, put her finger to her lips, then pointed to the hallway. Isak closed the door softly behind him and followed her out to the coats.

She picked up the conversation they’d been having over text, one room apart. “So, Tuesday?”

“Night, yes. I land in the afternoon, then I have to pick up Ophelia.”

“Okay. Oh, wait.” Noora pressed his shoulder as if to make sure he was firmly in place and wouldn’t move. She walked away. Isak put on his coat and boots while he waited for her to return. “Here.” Noora snuck up to his side and slipped something into his tote bag. “The spare keys. I don’t know when I’ll be home that night, so you can let yourself in.”

“Ah, thank you.” Isak paused, and then repeated himself. “Thank you. For trusting him with me.”

She gave him half of a smile. “He trusts himself with you. I’m just following his lead.”

Isak nodded, and took the comment for what it was: guarded. “Um, could we…get dinner or something, when I’m back? Just some more time, outside of the apartment, to talk. I think we covered a lot, but—“

“Sure, yes. That’d be good. We all have shitty hours, but maybe one night the three of us could get together? I mean you, me, and Eskild.”

“Yes! I’d really like that.” He was excited, but he kept his voice hushed. He had so much more he needed to talk to Even about, but it would be incredibly helpful to get to know his roommates as well, and understand the kind of life he’d been living for the past few years. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way back here. And…please let me know if anything happens with him. Anything at all. I don’t know if he’ll call me, so….”

Noora nodded, understanding. “I’ll send updates when I can. But try not to worry too much. Focus on your trip.”

Isak gave a small chuckle, knowing exactly how impossible that was going to be.

“I know. But still. Have a safe flight, Isak.”

“Thanks, Noora.” He leaned in for a hug. It was awkward, almost as if they were still trying to whisper with their arms, but they connected and squeezed. They hadn’t actually seen much of each other over the past few days, but they were part of a team now. He had keys, and he had her blessing. They separated before it got any worse, and Isak headed home.

* * *

Isak didn’t let himself think about everything that had happened that day. He blocked it out while he walked Ophelia, instead focusing on everything he needed to do for Paris: review his folio, pack his suits, gather Ophelia’s food and toys to go next door, make sure everything was charged for the flight. He changed his bed and did all of his laundry and took a shower. Then he put on a sheet mask. He watched TV. He waited for Even to inevitably crawl back into his consciousness and occupy every available thought he had.

It didn’t take long.

“What the fuck am I doing,” he muttered to Ophelia. She, still coming to terms with Isak’s masked face, was curled away from him, hiding in the crevice of the couch. So she didn’t answer. But it was okay, because Isak wasn’t sure what the question was in reference to anyway.

Was he doubting his trip to Paris? Was he doubting leaving Even for the night? Was he doubting anything, everything from that day, from Saturday, from Friday? Was he doubting what he said right before he left? He didn’t know. He didn’t fucking know.

Isak turned off the TV and shut his eyes. He sat there and cleared his mind, blank blank blank, so a true thought could bubble up to the surface. 

_Even_.

The timer on his phone rang, and he went to the bathroom. He peeled off his mask, washed his hands, and massaged his face for a few minutes, looking in the mirror but not really looking in the mirror. He looked in the mirror and saw Even.

It took a while for Isak to fall asleep. He should’ve gone back to Even’s, just for the night, just so he could sleep next to him. He could’ve come back early to pick up his bags and get to the train. Instead it was nearing midnight and he was staring at the ceiling and Ophelia was curled up in her own bed, not even available for consolation cuddles. He whimpered. “Ophie, come here.” He patted the blanket next to him. She did not come. She punished him for not going back to Even.

So he let himself think about Even. He let Even fill the room the way he used to when he would stay over. He fit into the emptiness, from corner to corner, but never overflowing, never crowding anything else out. Isak thought about what he’d been afraid of before Even, at the beginning of Even, when he worried that Even would replace something else in his established life. He’d seen it happen before, to other people, where they would find someone and then have to sacrifice something in order to keep them. Isak didn’t want to do that. He didn’t think anyone was worth that. He wondered if, in spite of those fears, he was doing just that.

But he didn’t know if he was sacrificing anything. He was still working. He was still living on his own. Technically his sex life had taken a slight drop, but he had stated, quite firmly, that he had no desire or intention to have sex with anyone but Even, earlier that very day. He was alone in bed at the moment; if he wanted to fuck someone, he could arrange that easily. He excelled at that. And yet….

Isak lifted the blanket to look down at his nude form. His dick remained flaccid, dropping between his legs and not even bothering to twitch at the idea of a no-strings-attached quickie. The thrill of witty, sexy texts, an evening of wordy foreplay that some men required before committing to a stranger’s apartment, no longer tempted him. In fact, the only thing he wanted from his phone was a read receipt from Even after sending a good night text. _That_ would’ve gotten the blood flowing. He didn’t send it though, to avoid disappointing his dick any further. Considering what he’d seen on Even’s phone, he was sure Even would let stuff go unanswered for a little while longer. He wouldn’t add to the noise right now.

Isak dropped the blanket. His life was still the same, except his dick had been rewired. And that wasn’t necessarily getting in the way of the massive trade deal he needed to finalize tomorrow, or Ophelia’s walks, or the fact that he’d been hanging out in his apartment naked ever since his shower. He marveled at how different his life felt with Even in it, and how little had actually changed. Whatever he had feared hadn’t come to pass.

It was just another sleepless Sunday night, because Isak, as always, wanted to avoid the Mondays that followed.

* * *

He emailed with Kim while he was in the air, the actual flight being too short to bother with sleep or entertainment. He cleared his inbox so he wouldn’t have to look at it when he was on the ground. Kim updated him on anything he missed when he left early on Friday (nothing) and what was happening in the office now (Camilla forgot to bring her stilettos to work so she was shuffling around in Sorels and a pencil skirt). She wished him good luck on the negotiations, and promised to be on call if he needed back-up. _I have Hubert’s assistant eating out of the palm of my hand, so I could get you anything._

_Congratulations on that achievement, but if I can’t handle him on my own, then I might as well resign._

_Okay but…if you go, I’m not going to Jerry Maguire you._

He googled her reference, a regular habit now, but wasn’t sure he understood it.

_Is this about money?_

_No, I mean I’m not going to resign when you resign just so we can start a new company on our own and also fall in love with each other._

_Kim, I’m gay._

_Congratulations! I’m keeping my job._

Isak laughed out loud. It felt strange to do so, after a weekend of trying to tune into and respect Even’s heavier emotions, but there was also a sense of relief with it. He could still laugh. Even could still laugh. It could feel good. As the plane descended toward CDG, never quite escaping the clouds, he tried to think of something funny to share, something that would make him smirk, or chuckle on the inside.

He didn’t think up anything until he was walking through the airport, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw it. He detoured to the small souvenir shop and spun the rack of commemorative magnets. Isak should’ve put this off until tomorrow, when he had time to kill waiting for his return flight, but he couldn’t resist the prop for a small joke. As soon as he paid for it, he held up the miniature clay baguette in its white bakery bag and took a picture. He sent it to Even. _Landed in Paris. Bought you a souvenir for your refrigerator dick collection. This one wears protection._

Once he was in the car on the way to the hotel, he checked his messages, expecting nothing but still hopeful for a response. Even had reacted to his text, attaching a bubbly “Ha Ha” to the baguette. Isak smiled, _beamed_ at his phone, and scrambled to type again. _This is so much funnier because I know you didn’t actually laugh._

Even immediately sent another “Ha Ha” reaction. This made Isak laugh out loud too.

* * *

The museum was beautiful. Isak didn’t want it to be. He didn’t want it to count as a positive reason to be back in Paris, and he didn’t want a reason to give Hubert credit beyond the art he possessed, but the actual building was worth the visit as well. Kim had forwarded instructions from Hubert’s assistant on how to access the museum while it was closed; he could wait in the gallery until Hubert was ready. As much as Isak knew it was a power move on Hubert’s part—making him wait—at least he had the museum to himself while he did.

Despite the gloomy weather, he, like most visitors, gravitated to the gardens and peristyle at the center of the museum. He was familiar with the current exhibits already, so there wasn’t anything new to discover in the halls. Isak walked the grand staircase slowly, let his head fall back to take in the cupola, and stepped out into the solitude of the garden. He took photos. The lighting was poor but the perspective still excellent.

He could hear the noise of the streets in the distance, but only because he didn’t have the usual bustle of a museum crowd to drown it out. It made the quiet around him much more pronounced, as it reminded him of the outside world and how far away it actually was. It reminded him of Even, too, or of being around Even. No matter how quiet or loud they were, the rest of the world kept its distance.

“I knew I would find you here.” Hubert announced himself from the entrance. He could be as loud as he wanted to when the museum was closed, but if it had been open that wouldn’t have stopped him either. The older gentleman, with his perfectly styled silver hair and custom tailored suit, took casual strides around the shallow pools to reach Isak.

“Hubert.” Isak presented his cheeks for Hubert’s customary three kisses.

“Alors, so stiff.”

“You’re about to drown me in wine. I wanted to give you a challenge to start.”

“Never a challenge, just an invitation.”

“I’ll rethink my strategy the next time I have to fly to Paris for a single meeting.” Isak was trying to keep his disdain in check, but it was leaking out with every line, and Hubert apparently found joy in it.

“This trip is just for me? I’m so flattered. You really should stay longer though, come back tomorrow when we’re open.”

“I didn’t realize you were on our schedule, closed on Mondays.”

Hubert clicked his tongue. “No no, you are on _my_ schedule.” Isak kept his mouth shut but let his eyes roll. Hubert let out a satisfied chuckle. “Now come, let’s walk to dinner. Just on the other side of the Palais.”

Hubert led the way back out of the museum, and they walked side by side toward the Seine. On the sidewalk things felt less tense, perhaps thanks to the presence of strangers, and Isak was able to appreciate the city beyond his one ridiculous task. Hubert had done his tour guide bit during his first visit, so now they walked almost like old friends, not bothering with the bullshit. Or at least, not as much. Hubert took the opportunity to gossip with Isak about other international trades he was working on, and who was being an absolute bitch about art they didn’t really have any right to. By now Isak was used to this level of diplomacy, but he made sure not to say anything incriminating on his part. He offered sympathetic noises though, and stored the shared information like an ace up his sleeve.

It was a short trip to Lasserre, though Hubert covered most of his European dealings before they got to the door. They paused at the entrance, and Isak wondered if he was supposed to open the door for Hubert instead of the other way around. But before he could finish his thought, the maître d′ opened it himself and welcomed them inside.

They took the elevator up to the main dining room. “Not that I believed you would be wearing anything less chic, but it’s good you’re wearing a full suit.” Hubert tugged on Isak’s lapel in approval. “I was nearly turned away last summer when I arrived with my jacket over my arm, slightly hidden from view.” He said it like it had been the season’s biggest scandal.

Soft piano music greeted them as they walked through the grand doors, but Isak was surprised to see that every table was empty. “Are we early?” 

“No, we are simply on my schedule.”

Isak’s mouth dropped open. They were shown to a small table in the center. “Hubert, you didn’t!”

“But of course, Isak. We are going to have a very important conversation, and it requires six courses and discretion. Lasserre provides both.”

They took their seats, Isak’s mouth still hanging open at the extravagance. It was absolutely unnecessary, but Isak knew well enough not to insult Hubert’s performance. The maître d′ had a quick, hushed conversation with Hubert before disappearing, and a team of waiters appeared to begin service.

The important discussion wasn’t on the menu to start. Hubert returned to his gossipy tour of a scouting trip to America, and Isak tried to get comfortable. As ridiculous as this evening was becoming, he might as well enjoy the private dining experience, because he knew he would never curry favor with anyone else so well as to earn this kind of seduction again. And he was convinced that this was just that, because Hubert couldn’t angle his chair toward Isak or leave light touches across his shoulders, his arms, when they were negotiating over the phone. Isak was determined to walk away from the whole evening with his exhibit firmly under contract, but he wasn’t sure how much grace and appreciation would have to be paid to Hubert’s more physical advances in order to get it.

Shortly after the canard à l’orange arrived, Hubert rested a hand on Isak’s wrist. “Darling, look up.” Timed to a crescendo in the piano music, the metallic ceiling was retracting to expose the night sky. Low-hanging clouds, lit up from the city below, felt close enough to touch. Isak’s mouth fell open again. “They won’t leave it open because of the chill, but I couldn’t resist. When you come back we’ll do this again in the spring, and pick a clear night.”

The roof began to close, and as the heavens disappeared Isak felt the weight of Hubert’s hand as it remained. He glanced down at it, then met Hubert’s eye. “'When'?” He questioned Hubert’s word choice.

“Of course. We are finalizing a deal tonight but this is merely the beginning of a wonderful relationship. We’re going to celebrate the end of your first trade and the start of something new.” Hubert lifted his hand, but only to make space for the iPads that appeared next to their plates. “Now, we should really enjoy our duck first, but I have the deal terms you’ve been so desperate for right here for you to review. At your leisure.”

Hubert began cutting into his duck, ignoring the iPads, so Isak followed his lead. Between bites, Hubert tried to tease Isak’s future plans from him, what would his next prize be after the impressionists? Isak didn’t know, because he hadn’t thought about anything seriously beyond this one, but he started throwing artists out there just to get a giggle and more gossip from Hubert on the museums that currently held his imaginary targets.

When they’d both cleaned their plates, they were swiftly removed and Hubert slid the iPads into their place. A single tap revealed a document that had condensed months of meetings and phone calls into a simple outline. “I believe you’ll find everything you asked for from me, and then what I’ll be receiving in return. There are the basic fees and services included with each, the length of terms, and any major limitations. You know most of it is boilerplate, and any of the amendments we’ve discussed before. You may take your time with this, but I’m also not asking you to sign anything tonight, certainly not after our second bottle. But upon review and approval you’ll receive contracts for signature on your desk by Wednesday.”

Isak read and scrolled. It was all there. Everything he had run through a couple of hours earlier in his hotel room was finally, officially, on offer. It looked delicious. Isak felt a flood of joy, as if Hubert had dropped the perfect gift in his lap instead of finally delivering on the bare minimum. “Thank you, Hubert. This is satisfactory.”

In an attempt to keep his emotions in check Isak went a little overboard, and Hubert laughed at how obvious he was. “Satisfactory? That’s all I get?”

“You lost points on the landing and you know it.”

“Hence the cheese.” On cue the iPads were replaced with a cheese plate and fresh wine pairing. He didn’t want to give Hubert any more credit, but Isak let himself relax and enjoy the course, now that his goal had been achieved. He picked up the pace on the wine consumption as well. Hubert watched him with a smile.

The giggles returned during dessert, an endearing trait of Hubert’s that let you know what was really behind an impeccable hairstyle, expensive tastes, and the wallet to afford it all. He shrieked when their chef sent his pan up in flames for the crêpes Suzette. They joked about songs they should request from the pianist, both men doing their best to find the exact opposite of the classical mix that had given their evening a quite lovely ambiance. They reveled in Hubert’s youthfulness, his willingness to abandon the fine art veneer that he expertly flashed about. It worked well on Isak. Hubert seemed to understand desire, both the pursuit of his own and the craft of shaping it in others. When Isak was frustrated, he considered it manipulation. But here in the restaurant, with the music and the wine and the privacy, it was a seduction. So Isak let Hubert’s hand return to his wrist and paid no mind to the iPad that returned to the table. He listened to Hubert when he spoke. He focused on his face, and how strong it felt compared to the soft rosy candlelight around them.

“And now, darling, for something new.”

“Ouais?”

“I have a friend who owns a beautiful, one-bedroom apartment in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, right across the river. He just remarried and is moving to live with the children, but is keeping his place because he is a smart man. Most people would throw it up on Airbnb immediately, but he’s letting me borrow it for six months.”

“You’re moving?”

“No, it’s not for me. It’s for you." Hubert paused, letting it sink in, letting Isak finally see what he'd known was coming all along. "I’d love for you to stay there while you start a new life as a Parisian, as my head curator. We will find a better apartment in the Spring, we will come back here for dinner under an open roof, we will work together to take my little museum to great heights, and then in five years I will hand it over to you. My impressionists, my gardens, my palais, are yours.”

Hubert should’ve been down on bended knee with this kind of proposal, with the way his eyes begged, the way both of his hands wrapped around Isak’s and drew it to his chest, with the way the rest of his life would be shaped by Isak’s answer. But Isak’s first thought, his only thought, slipped out immediately. 

“What about my husband?”


	30. Even

Noora knocked, then opened his door and stuck her head inside. Even looked up from the book he was reading, the one Isak had left behind. “I saw you went food shopping. Do you want to cook dinner with me?”

He just stared at her, not really thinking about answering. The actual answer, he knew, was no. He didn’t want to cook. He didn’t want to have the conversation that cooking with someone required. He wasn’t quite getting into Isak’s book, but it was the most preferred activity at the moment: a distraction that didn’t require the effort of presenting himself to other people.

Noora filled his silence. “I saw you have lettuce, and I was thinking of stealing it for Taco Tuesday.”

“It’s Monday.”

“The tacos don’t know that.” She smiled and tilted her head and knew he’d get out of bed for a dumb joke.

The thing that actually propelled him though, was that he didn’t want Isak coming back to the apartment and seeing that he hadn’t eaten, that the food they’d carefully selected had gone untouched. His fear of disappointing Isak outweighed a physical hunger and dread for socializing. He marked his place in the book and slid out of bed, silently following Noora to the kitchen.

“I started on the meat. Could you wash and chop these tomatoes?” There was a small vine sitting next to the cutting board. Noora went to the stove to continue browning the beef.

They prepared dinner with minimal conversation. Noora took the head of lettuce from Even’s shelf and rinsed and shredded enough leaves for the both of them. Even worked through each task that Noora assigned to him, moving on to mashing up an avocado after he finished the tomatoes. Eventually they filled their table with small bowls of ingredients and tortillas warm from the oven. They sat down and built their tacos on the wrong day.

With a mouth full of guacamole Noora jumped from comfortable silence to the thing Even had been trying to not think about for most of the day. “So…Isak.”

Even didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t know how he should take responsibility for the man who had barged into their apartment a few days ago and refused to leave. Even realized he’d helped make tacos, let Noora use the lettuce, as some sort of penance on Isak’s behalf.

But before he had to acknowledge this, Noora kept going. “I’m going to go to dinner with him on Thursday night. I’m going to take him to Eskild’s. I think he wants to get to know us, and I know Eskild is already planning ways to haze him.”

“Do I have to go?”

Noora chuckled. “No. I actually think he wanted it to be a secret, or to not bother you with it, but that felt strange. And….”

“You’re going to talk about me.”

“Yes.”

Even wasn’t offended. It was the obvious reason. Noora was right, it would’ve been strange for them to try to do it without him knowing. Or at least it would’ve given him a reason to find offense in it. Being ashamed of himself was one thing; it was another if everyone else in his life were too, if they were running off to talk about him in secret.

“I do think he wants to get to know us, since he seems intent on staying with us, with you, more often. I saw his ice cream in the freezer. But we’re obviously going to talk about the reason why he’s here, which is you.”

Even nodded. Juice from the meat dripped out of a tear in his tortilla when he took a big bite.

“Um, and I wanted to know if there was anything you wanted us to talk about in particular, or to avoid. If there’s anything we should or shouldn’t say on your behalf.”

Even shrugged. He had to finish chewing, but he also didn’t know. “We talked a little bit yesterday. I told him about my phases, and he seems familiar with this uh, depression. He said he had a lot of questions so…maybe he’ll ask you instead of me.”

It would certainly be easier. It would be easier to have Noora explain everything, so he wouldn’t have to relive it all himself. Isak could get the facts, and make his own decisions, without having to battle Even about it all.

“I don’t want to give him the wrong answers though. I don’t want to say anything that you wouldn’t say, or that you don’t want him to know. I know there are even things that you don’t want to tell me, so…I just want to respect that.”

Even sighed. He took a sip of water. “He doesn’t know about the hospital. We’re going to the doctor on Thursday too, so maybe he’ll find out then. But officially it was an accident anyway. Um…I didn’t really go into details of other things. I don’t remember a lot of it, but I think he got the general idea of what happens. And then…I don’t know what else he wants to know. You could really just sum it up with ‘He’s crazy’ and then order dessert.”

“Even.”

He shrugged again. “I am. It’s all I am. Or it’s all that really matters, anyway. It cancels everything else out.”

Noora looked like she’d been slapped, stunned into silence. Even dropped his eyes and took a bite of his taco. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, but Even was comfortable in it at this point. The thoughts were familiar, and it didn’t shock him to say them out loud. The lettuce was loud in his ears while he chewed.

Noora cleared her throat. “I know it’s difficult to see a different perspective right now, but I do need to say that that’s not true, Even. You’re not crazy. Maybe you’re sad, and scared, right now, but I also know that you can be happy, and brave, and kind, and funny, and smart, and beautiful, and talented, and…and everything else. And you are loved for all of it. I love you. Eskild loves you. And if I get a chance to ask a question at dinner on Thursday, I’ll find out if Isak loves you too, okay?” She waited until Even gave some sort of acknowledgement. All he could manage was brief eye contact, but it seemed to fulfill her demand. “I have a very strong hunch but you know me…I have to confirm my sources.” 

Noora’s smile was back, though it wavered a bit at the corners. “Anyway, we were just texting before dinner to arrange the date. I haven’t told Eskild yet, and I’m still deciding whether or not I should. Like, would it be safer for Isak if we surprised him at the bar? So Eskild wouldn’t have time to prepare his assault?”

“Probably. Have they met?”

“Very briefly. Eskild said he thought he was a delivery boy.”

“What?”

Noora waved her hand. “I don’t know. But they haven’t _really_ met. And being able to witness that will be worth the bar tab alone.” She redirected the conversation to something more lighthearted: Eskild’s first impressions. Over the years they’d both had friends and significant others to introduce to him, and every single one was worthy of a story, a retelling. They finished their tacos and tried to one-up each other on a disaster scale, and by the time they were done with dinner Even had almost smiled. He felt a little lighter on the inside, but he wasn’t quite ready to express it just yet. It was a nice and easy way to wrap things up though, remembering funny moments and imagining, looking forward to, how Isak will react to Eskild when he was in full force. They cleaned up their plates and bowls and then retired to their rooms.

Slightly energized from the food and conversation, Even picked up his phone instead of the book. He climbed into bed and got comfortable. He took a deep breath. He turned it on. The time flashed first, and he was surprised to see how late it was. He shouldn’t have been, because that was Noora’s schedule, but being aware of the time in general was still a strange feeling anyway. Next he read through the notifications that still came through: texts and phone calls, the bare minimum. He’d missed two calls from Isak about thirty minutes ago. He wondered if it was too late to call him back. Then he marveled at the fact that he _wanted_ to call him back. There must’ve been something in those tacos. He dialed.

“Hi I’m drunk but hi.”

“Are you okay?”

Isak giggled. “It’s funny that you are asking me that.”

“You called me twice.”

“Pretty standard for when a guy doesn’t answer his phone. But I’m fine. Back in my hotel room, thinking of you. Are _you_ okay?”

Even paused to really consider the question. Physically, yes. He wasn’t hungry or thirsty. He was breathing normally, not nervous about the phone call, or at least not nervous anymore. “Yes. I made tacos with Noora.”

“Taco Tuesday! Almost!” More giggles. “Oh now I want tacos.”

“What…what did you have for dinner?”

“Oh god, baby, dinner…it was ridiculous. Good, but ridiculous. It was whatever you think French is, times a million. I’m full. I don’t want tacos. I’m just…done with France. I want to come home.”

“Did you um, make the deal?” He wasn’t sure exactly why he’d gone. Isak had probably told him, but he couldn’t remember.

Isak let out a long groan. Then he took a breath, and kept groaning. “Yes.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes. But now I’m stuck here. It’s like…I broke up with someone but I’m not allowed to leave their apartment for another twelve hours.”

“You broke up with someone?”

“With Hubert? Yes. Or at least I hope so. I’d love to never have to talk to him again, but I’m not that stupid that I burned the bridge. Or…not that it’s stupid to do that. I just know that he has a certain amount of power in the art world and it would be smart, for now, not to be on the wrong side of it. Ugh, I should’ve booked a red-eye home. Maybe….”

Even listened while Isak dropped his phone and pursued his unspoken idea. He tried to imagine Isak drunk and in a Parisian hotel room. Maybe he was still in his suit. Even heard the rumblings get louder, and then a muffled crash, and an “Oh shit.” Isak’s voice was clear again when he asked, “Even?”

“Still here.”

“I’m just looking….”

He listened to Isak’s heavy breathing. He heard the light clicks of a keyboard.

“Damn. There’s nothing. It’s too late.”

“For what?”

“To fly home. Change my flight.”

“You come home tomorrow.” Even lifted his phone away from his ear. It was past midnight. “Today.”

“It’s not soon enough.” Isak drew out the last word for a full ten seconds.

Even didn’t know what else to say. He was supposed to comfort Isak, but he didn’t know how. Or at least not over the phone. He could stroke Isak’s hair, or get him undressed and into a warm shower before tucking him in. That had worked on him. He could reciprocate. But Isak was in a different country.

“Even?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know French?”

“Bonjour.”

Isak giggled. “Anything else?”

“Merci.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Au revoir.”

“Don’t say that one.”

“I think that’s it. Oh, je…um. Je something Even.”

“M’appelle. Je m’appelle Even.”

“Je m’appelle Even.”

“Parfait. Perfect. I’ll teach you more when I’m home.”

“What did you say when you left? That was French. You said ‘Je.’”

“I did.” Isak sighed. “I’ll teach you that later. But now we should go to sleep.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“Dors bien.”

Even didn’t know what he said, but it didn’t really matter. Whatever Isak wanted, the answer was, “Yes.”

* * *

When he woke up on Tuesday it was late morning. The apartment was empty. He went to the kitchen for some water and an apple, then he went back to bed. He had turned off his phone after they’d ended their call, so nothing was flashing at him. He picked up the book instead. He backtracked to the beginning of a chapter and tried again. He got a little bit farther, and understood it more, before falling asleep.

When he woke up he remembered it. The book was in the middle of the bed, and he was holding his place with his thumb. He picked it up, turned down the page, and set it next to his pillow. He’d come back to it. He got out of bed and took the apple core from his desk to the kitchen garbage. He stayed in the kitchen, not sure what to do next.

He wished he knew when Isak’s flight was. He supposed he could text him, but Even didn’t think the question was worth bothering Isak or turning on his phone to begin with. But he could shower, while he waited. Then he would be clean for whenever Isak landed. He stood in the kitchen a little while longer, waiting for someone to scream out that there were better, more important things to do, that this was a stupid idea. But no one did. So he went back to his bedroom.

He noticed the smell this time. It was faint, but it was there, musty yet sharp. He opened his window like Eskild had done, and went to check his paints. Everything was closed up, but not properly. He went back to the kitchen for two mason jars, from the collection that Noora had created for his art supplies. They always had copies of the newspaper lying around too, so he snagged one from a few days ago.

His brushes were probably destroyed after not being cared for while he was painting and then while they were abandoned on his floor. It wouldn’t be worth the effort to clean them, especially if he wasn’t going to paint again. He still had some unused canvases, but he was ashamed of what he’d done in the first place. Even wasn’t going to open his paints any time soon.

But shit, those were some nice brushes. Fucking top of the line. And all he’d done was spill green all over his room. Fuck. Even poured out some fresh solvent into a new jar and started dipping. 

The smell got worse as Even sat in front of the open jar and wiped his brushes over and over again on the newspaper. His nostrils burned. But it felt good to line up the brushes as they came clean, combing the bristles so they’d dry straight. He watched his accomplishments build like tally marks. He wiped down the paint tubes with the solvent, then sealed up the remainder in the jar to let the particles settle. He’d decide later whether he would dispose of the supplies or hold onto them. For now, at least, they were clean and cared for. He bundled up the dirty newspapers and made another trip to the kitchen.

Then he finally took his shower. He scrubbed himself top to bottom, thoroughly, the way Isak had. He combed his hair. He brushed his teeth. He spit and rinsed his mouth before the fog covering the mirror disappeared and he had to face his skinny, tired form. When he was done, it was almost 6. He went back to his room and put on clean sweatpants, a flannel shirt, and socks. This pair had pink, yellow, and blue stripes. He wiggled his toes. He sat down on the end of his bed.

He thought about Isak’s imminent arrival. He thought about how his future, the little bit he now had, was completely shaped by Isak. Tomorrow he would miss Isak while he was at work. Thursday he would meet Isak and visit his doctor. Thursday night he would wait for Isak to come home from his dinner with Noora and Eskild. It was exciting and comforting, but it was also something he used to try to avoid. Not that lying in bed wishing he didn’t exist at all was great, but defining himself completely by another person wasn’t exactly a step in the right direction. Because he was still out of control then. Isak decided everything for him. He decided what Even would do, and how Even would feel about it, and he could take all of that away in an instant. And he was sure Isak would do that as soon as he understood the kind of person Even was. So now Even was confused by his comfort and excitement. And all he could think was to ask Isak what he should do about it.

When he looked to his left, he saw his faint reflection in the black screen of his TV. He flinched at it, and dropped his eyes back to his socks. “What the fuck happened to you,” he muttered to himself, not actually wanting an answer, but still needing to be angry about the question.

He was angry enough to go back to his TV. He stood up and faced down his reflection, killing it with the push of a button. The screen flashed bright and the console came to life. Why bother with Even when he could just be someone else? He could be anyone, anything. He could survive a barren wasteland by himself, or race everyone around a candy island, or navigate to the deepest part of the ocean and _win_. It’s what he did. It’s why he designed games. He built faces and worlds and paths and they all worked. Even if you lost control for a little bit, you still knew that control was possible.

He picked up his controller and waited for whatever he’d been playing last to load.

“Fuck.”

There he was: Isak. He was wearing jeans and a hoodie, and he was standing in the middle of a field of tall grass. Isak’s hair, and the grass, danced in a light breeze.

Even wanted to turn it off. He took a step forward, but then he stopped. His curiosity won out, as he continued to take in what he’d created, proof of what he’d forgotten, what he was capable of when he lost control.

He moved the character forward. Isak could walk, and he could run. But he couldn’t go anywhere. He walked, he ran, through grass, forever. Even noticed when his environment repeated itself; he hadn’t gotten far. He’d only programmed one character and one path and one view, and it all led to nowhere.

Isak was formed in great detail. But the environment was lacking. He had movement but inconsistent shadows, so the sunny day that Isak was trapped in had too many undefined sources of light. The blue sky was the same however he turned: empty. Isak’s face, while accurate, never changed. The eyes never saw anything, the forehead never wrinkled with a challenge.

Isak simply existed, and for Even, this was no escape at all.

* * *

“Damn, look at my ass.”

Even scrambled to his feet at Isak’s voice. He’d left the TV on and let himself collapse to the floor, resting against the side of his bed. At some point he’d dropped the controller. When he stood, he kicked it away with the sudden, surprised movement.

Isak was leaning against the frame of his door. “That’s me, right?” He nodded at the screen, where his avatar was still standing in the light breeze, the eternal sunshine. When Even didn’t say anything he walked in, walked past Even, and approached the TV to confirm for himself. “Mmm. Yeah. That’s my ass.”

Before he could think of a response to Isak’s appreciative smirk, Even was distracted by Ophelia, who barged into the room and met his crotch with fervor. He automatically bent down to capture her in a wiggly hug.

“Ah, I asked Noora if she could stay over and she said it was okay. Do you mind? It’ll save me some time in the morning when I have to go back before work.”

“No, it’s fine,” Even said to the floor. “Noora’s home?”

“Yeah, she was in the kitchen.”

Even didn’t know what he intended to do with that information, if anything. But it was an easier question to ask than having to acknowledge that there were two Isaks in his bedroom. He gave Ophelia a couple of firm, final pats, then reached for the controller to exit his “game.”

“Did you make this?” Isak asked right before Even flicked the screen into darkness. He bent down to try to meet Even’s line of sight.

“Yes.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well it looked cool. Is it a game?”

“No.” Technically it wasn’t. It was an avatar suspended in a field. Isak looked like he had more questions, but he didn’t ask them. Which was good, because Even wasn’t exactly in the mood to explain how much of a failure it was. He stood up straight and Isak’s eyes followed. “How, um, how was your trip?”

Isak smiled. “It’s over, which is the best part. After I landed I went right home, grabbed the dog, and came here as fast as I could. Which means I’m hungry. I’m going to get an ice cream.” When he walked past Even to leave the room, Even automatically stepped into his wake. Ophelia was the caboose on their little kitchen-bound train.

Noora was on the couch with a bowl of ramen. She said hello to Even as they passed.

As he watched Isak dig out a treat for himself, Even noticed how comfortable he seemed moving through their apartment. Even was relieved, if only because it meant he didn’t have to play host. He didn’t have to worry about Isak’s comfort or capabilities, and he could still enjoy his visits. It was similar to how he felt when he was at Isak’s apartment, familiar enough with everything to move freely, and not like he was taking up space or effort that wasn’t meant for him. It was also a relief that the smell hadn’t driven Isak (or Ophelia) away.

“Do you want one?”

Even shook his head at the offered cone.

“Did you have dinner?”

“No.” But before Isak could insist he at least have an ice cream, he went to the counter for another apple.

“Oh I see how it is. Too good for my ice cream, huh?”

Even didn’t know you could lick an ice cream cone with sass, but Isak was doing just that in his kitchen. It made him snort. He leaned against the counter and tried to take a bite of his apple with a similar amount of attitude. It required eye contact, which he wasn’t used to. But he managed. And Isak laughed.

It seemed to be an invitation as well. Isak stepped in close to him. They held their food away from their faces and pressed their lips together in a firm kiss. “Mm. You smell good. You showered?” When Isak leaned back he glanced at Even’s hair.

“You told me to.”

“I _suggested_ it. But I’m glad you took my suggestion.” Isak dipped his head then leaned into Even’s neck. He breathed in deep and dropped a kiss right above Even’s collar. “Meanwhile I probably smell like airplane.”

They separated enough so they could finish eating their snacks. Isak finished his cone first, letting Ophelia lick at his fingers for any hints of sugar. Then he scrubbed his hands at the sink. When he was done he moved back in front of Even and slipped his body into his personal space. His arms went around Even’s waist and head rested on Even’s shoulder. Even automatically spread his legs to make room for Isak’s, and wrapped his free arm around Isak’s back. He continued eating his apple over his shoulder. They held each other.

“You don’t smell like airplane,” Even noted between crunches. When Isak laughed Even felt the little rumble everywhere. It was nice.

When Even was done with his apple he tried to toss it into the trash can without letting go of Isak. The core bounced off of the lip of the bin, and Ophelia chased after it. Isak ripped himself out of Even’s embrace and lunged after her. He snatched up the core before she got further than an inquisitive lick. Isak dunked it into the bin.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. She loves apples too, but she can’t have the seeds. If you feel like sharing some of your treats you just need to cut it off in chunks first.” 

Ophelia looked distraught at her recent loss. She went to Even’s side seeking out a consolation pet.

“Do you want anything else? Or should we retire?” Isak offered his elbow, but had a second thought. He went to the cabinet and pulled out two cups. While Isak filled them with water Even selected two clementines from his fruit collection. Then they formed a train again, back to the bedroom.

Noora waved her fork as they passed. “Good night, boys.”

* * *

It was late. Even shut his window. Isak stripped down to nothing, folding his entire outfit into a neat pile on the corner of Even’s desk.

“You can wear something of mine.” Even gestured to his closet before bending down to pick up a page from the leftover newspaper.

“Do you want me to wear something?”

Even snapped back up, taking in Isak’s form, and the question, slowly understanding that his nudity was intentional. “Oh. Um, no, I just…it’s cold.”

“We could probably figure out something to generate heat.” Isak slid into Even’s bed on his side, and sort of flopped his way over to his own. There he was directly beneath Even’s gaze. “Sorry. That was a joke. Sort of. I’m fine with the blanket. And as soon as you get in we’ll also have a built-in foot warmer.”

Even stayed in his clothes. He turned off the light. The room was lit up by Isak’s phone screen, and it was enough to get Even to his bed without bumping a knee. He climbed in on his side, and just like Isak had said, Ophelia hopped up and draped herself across the end of the bed. He could see Isak’s feet massaging her spine from under the blanket. “Can she eat clementines?” Even had brought the newspaper and clementines into bed with him, spreading out a page between them to catch the peelings.

“She can, but she won’t. She doesn’t like oranges.”

“But these are sweet.”

“Well you can offer one to her if you want, but if she likes it that’s just…less clementine for you then.” Isak pushed himself up to sitting, adjusting his pillow behind him and picking up one of the clementines for himself. Even was on his side, propped up by an elbow. They got to work, digging in with their thumbs.

Even didn’t offer her any. Ophelia seemed to fall asleep pretty fast anyway, her muscles twitching and her breath huffing with dreams of the hunt. When they were done peeling Even bundled up the citrus-scented paper and tucked it into the small bin next to his bed. He flattened out on his back and slowly pulled apart the segments over his chest.

Between bites of his own clementine, Isak would feed him additional segments. He slid down to his side, to his elbow, just like Even had been, and pressed juicy crescents against Even’s lips, begging for death. Even chewed them gently. Isak’s fingers dipped into the juice that escaped and hovered above his mouth. Even licked at the sweetness and then sucked on the warmth. Isak hummed appreciation for the touch, staying just shy of moaning.

“God it’s so much sexier when you do it.”

“I don’t know if you mean compared to other men or compared to Ophelia.”

Isak snorted. “That’s gross.”

“Other men? Yeah.”

Even just meant to joke, just meant to keep it light, having only very recently been reacquainted with that kind of emotion. But Isak took Even’s chin in his fingers and turned his face toward him. “You’re the only one, you know that?”

Isak’s touch was soft enough that Even could nod without resistance. His face was close enough that Even could see how serious he was in the dark.

“I don’t think I know how to be with anyone else. I don’t know how to look at anyone else, because all I want to do is look at you. I know that might be different for you but it’s impossible for me. And I don’t know what I’m asking of you right now except…I don’t want you to forget that. I just need you to know that. You’re the only one. I’ll keep saying it if you need me to.”

Even shook his head, hard enough for Isak to let go. “No. I know it.”

For the first time in a long time, Even didn’t think about what Isak wanted to hear, or what he should say, or whether he should say anything at all. He didn’t run through all of the possible outcomes of each choice, and he didn’t anticipate any pain that he would cause. He didn’t hesitate. He told the truth. “You’re the only one.”

Isak lowered his head. He whispered against Even’s lips. “You’re the only one.”

Even whispered it back: “You’re the only one.” He would’ve kept whispering it, kept repeating it, because he was sure that Isak was the one who needed to hear it over and over again, but Isak had other plans.

They tasted like clementines. They pressed together, firm. They generated heat.


	31. Isak

Isak had taken a play out of Even’s book and completely ignored his messages after he left Paris. He knew what was waiting for him anyway: an angry Geir who couldn’t contain his frustration to fewer than ten emails. Kim greeted him on Wednesday with a cup of coffee and pitying look. “I don’t know if you want to go to him or wait for him to come to you, but I don’t think you have more than two minutes to figure it out.” She was standing in his doorway, and kept leaning backward to glance toward Geir’s office. She didn’t want to be in the line of fire.

“I’ll go to his. If he’s going to trash an office I’d like it to not be mine. Thanks for the coffee.” Isak hung up his coat and smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit.

“Okay. And, um, just so you know, yesterday, he was…shouting things. Asking questions.”

He waved her off. “I don’t care. None of it really matters if you’re about to get fired.” Isak didn’t think he was actually getting fired, but he definitely thought he was about to head into a war zone. Ignoring Geir’s emails probably didn’t make the situation any better, but he wasn’t going to let any of Hubert’s nonsense get in the way of his time with Even. “Oh, and keep an eye on deliveries. I’m expecting contracts to be messengered from Paris.”

Kim smiled. “Show me the money!”

“Jerry Maguire again?”

“It’s a classic, Isak.”

He made a mental note to see if it was on Netflix, then shoved it to the back of his mind. Kim went back to her cubicle and Isak headed a few doors down to Geir’s office, armed with his coffee.

Geir’s expression didn’t change when he noticed Isak walking in. He had been angry since Monday. “What the fuck, Isak.”

“What the fuck, Geir?” Isak lobbed it right back, and settled into one of the chairs opposite Geir’s desk. They were comfortable, nicer than the ones he had.

“You completely bombed the deal and trashed my reputation over goddamn dessert.”

“That is incorrect. I closed the deal for the French impressionists that will complete my next exhibit and I will be signing the contracts as soon as the legal read is done. And you trashed your own reputation when you negotiated, behind my back, to ship me off to Paris for the rest of my goddamn career. So I will ask you again, Geir: what the fuck.”

“I didn’t ship you off to Paris, I handed you an entire fucking museum on a silver platter. You should’ve been grateful. I set you up for glory.”

“You set me up for five years as Hubert’s puppet, and, frankly, if he would have his way, his lover. And with absolutely no guarantee that I would be able to take over his position if he actually decided to retire then. But jesus, the terms of this bullshit ‘deal’ don’t even matter. The fact that both of you conspired to this deal without my consent, without my awareness, is just…terrifying, actually, knowing that two very powerful men have absolutely zero consideration for me as a curator, as an employee, as a human being. I’ve worked with you for almost a decade Geir! Shit! After all this time I’m just a fucking toy to you? Something you can flaunt over your colleagues and trade for…for…for what? What was in it for you? Was Hubert going to give you some sort of finder’s fee? I don’t quite believe you negotiated simply because you thought Hubert was a nice person, or out of the goodness of your own heart. We’ve discussed his behavior and methods, though now I understand why you were so relaxed about it. But I was a little too distracted trying to escape Hubert’s hands at dinner to figure out what my general market price was.”

This was as angry as Isak was going to let himself get. He’d had plenty of time, while ignoring Geir, to figure out what he wanted to say and what he wanted to figure out. He’d handled the situation as best he could in Paris, but there was still so much that didn’t make sense to him, and he had to see the whole picture before would start yelling for the whole floor to hear.

Geir held his gaze, even lifted his chin a bit in an attempt to look down at Isak. But he was silent. So Isak continued.

“’You should’ve been grateful’…No, _you_ should be grateful. You should be grateful that I declined Hubert’s offer as gently as I could, without incriminating you both. You should be grateful that I am in your office giving you the chance to explain yourself.”

Geir seemed to crack a little, falling back in his chair, searching for an answer among the things on his desk.

“You would’ve had a proper contract, Isak. You would’ve had terms to approve, your future to determine. This wasn’t an under-the-table trade.”

“Do you think I care Geir? Do you think that matters now? Do you think that _absolves_ you?”

They both knew the answer, even if Geir would not acknowledge it. Isak took a sip of his coffee, waiting for the actual explanation.

Geir cleared his throat. He lined up a couple of museum branded pens on his desk. “I, like Hubert, am facing the tail end of my career. I, like Hubert, am concerned for the future of my museum, especially when it comes time for me to let go. I, like Hubert, am proud of what I have created and want to leave it in the best possible pair of hands, someone who is capable of accomplishing what I did, or beyond. Someone who can preserve my legacy and build their own.”

Isak scoffed at the generous portrait Geir was painting for himself.

“We had many conversations about our shared concerns, and these developed into strategy meetings. We became a team, and we planned for each other’s futures. We finally realized that he had something that I wanted, and I had something he wanted. And we thought we could figure out an even trade that would benefit everyone involved.

“Hubert knew early on that you are an incredible talent. You have an eye for art and the purpose of a museum in your heart. You work hard, making excellent, efficient decisions. I’m proud of the career you’ve established with our museum. I’m proud to have you representing our city, our country, elevating us over the past decade with your work and passion. But…I’m also scared. Because I don’t know what to do with you. And Hubert does.

“He’s not a fool. He knows the scale that we’re working on. But he also knows your potential, and your worth. And he could solve my problem without sacrificing any of it. You would move to a city that you love and learn a language you’ve been practicing for months. You would walk your dog along the Seine. You would have job security, a comfortable contract that would grow as you did, as you flourished. You would have your own museum, and you would have our complete support, should you even need it. Hubert would have a protégé, and, though he wasn’t exactly lacking, the confidence of someone who knew his legacy was in good hands. It says a lot that he is willing to leave his museum in the hands of an outsider, though he probably expected those five years would be enough to turn you into a Parisian, just in time. He would forge an international bond with us, and we’d be able to enrich each other’s cultures with a mutually beneficial relationship.

“Now…I come into work every day and I meet with my two senior curators, and I get scared. I look at both of you and I see a future no matter what. And I’m so grateful for that! What a blessing, what an abundance of riches. But I didn’t know how to honor that, and I was not willing to pit you against each other for a future here. So this was my solution: give you both a museum. Hubert reassured me that you wouldn’t just be getting the Petit Palais though; you would be getting a share of thirteen other museums, all of Paris. To be honest, I started to get a little jealous. That’s how I knew it would be great.”

“And you did all of this behind my back because….” Isak took another sip, demanding more information if only to give him time to process everything he’d just heard.

“Because it would be so much easier if it was your idea. Hubert was convinced, too, that this was an incredible offer, and sure that you would take it. He thought he knew you. I thought I knew you. And if you saw it as the win-win-win situation that we did, you would be smart enough to accept, if only provisionally. You could leave Oslo on your own terms, and Camilla could eventually step into my role on her own terms as well. She wouldn’t think she’s second fiddle because there would only be one. I would have secured my future. Hubert would have secured his. And you would have secured your future, and believed that you’d done it by your own hand.”

Geir was done. He’d completed his closing argument, and he’d done it in a way that made him think he would win. He’d convinced himself all over again that this was the best and obvious choice.

Except Isak was Isak, and like every decision he’d made about his life, he’d made this one for himself. He was always in a win situation because he crafted it to be one. He was almost proud of himself for how deftly he had stepped around the truth of Hubert, and Geir, to avoid their machinations and protect himself, because he wasn’t even aware of the pitfall he had just avoided. It was second nature by now. It was a talent.

“I’m almost insulted that you and Hubert think I could not secure my own future by my own hand, that it would require your help, or rather your interference. And I suppose it’s impressive that on top of this, you believe I should be grateful for it, as if I would sail your lifeboat across the North Sea and then send back half of a kingdom for it. But…goddamn it, Geir. Why didn’t you just _ask_? Why didn’t you just ask me, if not for my help, then for my opinion, on this ‘problem’ of yours? I think you would’ve gotten a lot further if you considered both Camilla and I as team members, equally interested in the future of this museum. But now you’ve ‘trashed your reputation’ with both Hubert and your employees and whoever we might feel like telling the next time we need some informational ammunition. Which, by the way, is probably within the next hour for Hubert.” Isak couldn’t resist the dig, though it was the most accurate assessment of Hubert’s business practices to date.

“I mean, I know why Hubert wouldn’t think to ask, but I thought I held at least some respect in your eyes. We’ve solved problems before, you trust me—well, I _thought_ you trusted me to work on your behalf, though I suppose you’ve been pulling the strings behind me this whole time.”

“I _do_ trust you Isak. I just don’t think it’s…I…. I’m the director of this museum. I’m your boss. I’m supposed to clear the way for you, not saddle you with my problems.”

“You’re not supposed to do either of those things.”

They were both losing patience, approaching an impasse. Isak knew he was right and Geir was too proud to admit he wasn’t, which was largely why they were in this situation in the first place. So Isak took the initiative for a collaborative solution, finally realizing that Geir would never do it on his own.

“I understand that you set me up for a marriage of convenience. It’s unfortunate that you put so much effort into something that was, ultimately pointless, save for showing me your and Hubert’s true colors. But, if you had bothered to ask in advance, to care about the person who would play a critical role in your future, you would know that I’m already spoken for, and I am standing my ground. I have a family, and a life here, and I consider this museum, your legacy, a significant part of it. If you wish to continue conducting business in this way, you’ll have to find a different political pawn to slide across your chessboard. Now, call Camilla in here so we can discuss how all three of us are going to work and support this museum going forward.”

Geir pushed a button on his phone, never breaking eye contact with Isak. He would trust Isak, but not blindly.

“Camilla.” She greeted him the way she greets everyone, letting them know they had her attention and could lose it at any moment.

“My office, please. Isak is here.”

Almost instantly they heard Camilla’s heels announce her approach.

* * *

Isak was relieved that he had a legitimate reason to leave the office on Thursday. It was a tense environment, since he made Geir catch Camilla up to speed on the Hubert situation and proposed an ultimatum in return. But now he could escape it, get lunch, and see Even: win-win-win.

He stopped by Kim’s on the way out. “I have to go meet someone. I’m not sure how long it’s going to be, but email me if something comes up, or if Geir explodes.”

The assistants had been tip-toeing around the office, feeling the tension and hoping it didn’t snap while they were on the clock. Kim, though, seemed willing to step up as his first line of defense. He supposed a clear conscience helped. “Sure. Um, would this meeting be happening, by chance, anywhere near a Lett? If so you could pick me up a poke bowl.” Kim fluttered her eyelashes in an exaggerated flirt.

Isak laughed. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“Thanks. And if you get hungry yourself, remember that you do _not_ like their chicken and barley.”

“Shit, thank you. I definitely would’ve ordered it again.”

Kim sighed. “I know.”

Outside he pulled up the map to Even’s doctor’s office and started the moderate trek. It was close to Even’s apartment at least, so for the person who mattered it wasn’t a difficult trip. On the bus ride over there he searched for the nearest salad shop; he’d fulfill his lunch promise on his return.

As he approached the office building, he could see Even and how nervous he was. He was hunched over as if he were studying something on his phone, but he wasn’t holding a phone. His hands were in his pockets and he was staring at the ground. Isak noticed that he was wearing jeans. “Hi.”

Even didn’t look up until Isak touched his shoulder. “Oh, hi.”

“Did you bring your card?”

“Yes, it’s in my wallet.”

“Great. Shall we go in?”

Even chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, then looked at Isak for the right answer. Isak gave him a subtle nod. “Okay.”

Once they were in the building Even seemed to gather a bit more confidence. He took the lead, since he’d been there before, and Isak just had to watch as he checked himself in. Then they took a pair of chairs and settled in for a short wait.

He picked up Even’s left hand, threaded their fingers, and held it in his lap. He didn’t know which one of them needed that more. “What should I wear to meet Eskild tonight?”

“Do you have a bulletproof vest?”

Isak laughed at the joke and then laughed again when he looked at Even and saw that he’d managed to deliver it with a face almost overwhelmed by fear. His eyes were wide, staring straight ahead. “You look like you’re legitimately concerned for my life.” Isak laughed again when Even just shrugged.

“Maybe just…what you’re wearing now? Don’t make it look like you’re trying too hard, but also don’t be sloppy. He’ll…he’ll just need to take one look at you and then he’ll have thirty reasons to purse his lips and speak to you in an overly sweet voice for the whole night.”

“Ah, the gay kiss of death.”

“That’s the one.”

“I never quite perfected it myself but maybe that’s okay.”

Even turned to look at him.

“What?”

“I’m trying to figure out what your kiss of death would be.”

“Hang around me long enough and eventually you’ll see the claws come out.” Isak added a wry, “Meow.”

Even laughed a little. Isak squeezed his hand. 

A nurse opened the door that led to the exam rooms. “Even?”

* * *

The appointment was long. Isak had to step out to take a call from the museum’s lawyer, and even when they’d spent a solid fifteen minutes going back and forth over the limits of the Petit Palais’ insurance policy, Isak still had a while to wait before Even emerged.

He sounded cheerful as he talked to the nurse who was escorting him out, but Isak saw how red his eyes were. When he went to him and kissed his cheek he could taste the salt of his dried tears. He didn’t think they were the result of whatever earned him a bandaid in the crook of his elbow. “Done?”

Even nodded. “They’ll call me with the results.” He rolled down his sleeve and took the coat Isak was holding for him. “And I have a referral for…another doctor.”

“Let’s go outside.”

They headed back to Even’s apartment. Isak didn’t mind the little detour, and was going to take the time to figure out how to ask Even about what had happened. He didn’t know if Even would want to talk about it, or if Isak was welcome to that information. He’d done a deep dive into Even’s personal life over the past few days, but perhaps there should be a limit. Physician-patient privilege.

But Even offered up the details unprompted. “I told her…everything. She can’t diagnose me, but she told me what she thinks it is, and is trying to fast-track me for an appointment with this one psychiatrist. Like, we sat there and she actually called his office because she wanted me to see someone as soon as possible.”

“That’s some…impressive service.”

“Yeah. So…I’ll go see him in two weeks, if not sooner. I told her I was flexible.”

He squeezed Even’s hand. They waited at a crosswalk.

“So…you know what it is.”

“Generally, yes. Not officially. But…I’ve googled stuff. And I know google is the worst place to go for medical advice, but things matched, you know? She said I should wait until I talk to the psychiatrist before going back to google though.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Isak was curious if what Even thought and what his doctor thought was also what he thought. He’d spent the entire flight back from Paris trying to describe the symptoms he’d seen and heard from Even. And yeah, things matched. But he knew that this was not one of those times when he had to be right. He just had to listen. He could wait for the official diagnosis, or he could wait until whenever Even wanted to tell him. If it had been difficult to find the words after all this time, they might never come easily to him.

“Otherwise I’m just a little dehydrated. Nothing dangerous, but it probably isn’t helping my mood, and how tired I am. She said my blood pressure confirmed it but also I can do a skin test.” Even raised their intertwined hands and tugged on his sleeve to reveal his wrist. He pinched his skin. “Apparently when it’s slow to flatten out again that means you’re dehydrated.”

“Interesting. So I’ll just have to keep pinching you every day?”

“Well no, only to see if I should be drinking more water.”

“No, I’m pretty sure this means I get to pinch you every day.”

“Isak,” Even whined, catching on.

“Doctor’s orders. Sorry.”

He was teasing, but he also really just wanted to touch Even’s skin. He missed what it felt like, when Even wanted him to touch him. The soft make out session they’d had before falling asleep on Tuesday night had been its own little tease, especially since Isak’s dick had made its presence known and Even did not invite it to join their mouth party. He hoped a pinch could count as foreplay.

They reached Even’s apartment and Isak left him at the door with a chaste kiss. “Go drink some water. Do you want me to come over after dinner?”

“If you’re still alive, yes.”

“Oh how you underestimate me.”

“Meow.” Even smiled into another brief kiss.

They defied gravity in order to part.

* * *

Isak didn’t give himself time to change into another outfit after work. He rushed home after trying to cram an afternoon of business into the remaining two hours at the office and managed Ophelia’s walk. While she ate her dinner he pulled together another tote bag with pajamas and a pillow. Then he just tugged off his tie and checked his teeth in the mirror and he was out the door.

Rushing to dinner meant he didn’t have much time to get anxious about the meeting, which was for the best. He breezed into the restaurant and scanned the room for a blonde bob and red lips. Isak was spotted by someone else first.

“Riccaaaaaaardo!” Eskild trilled from behind the bar, and unfortunately, Isak answered to the name. He gave Eskild a small nod in acknowledgment and stepped up to the stool he was pointing to.

“Hello, Eskild.” He offered his hand to shake as a formal introduction.

“Riccardo.”

“It’s Isak, actually.”

Eskild tilted his head as he let go of Isak’s hand. “We’ll see. Can I get you anything to drink?”

While Isak thought about what kind of drink he should order, Eskild pulled a menu out for him. Since he seemed to already be starting the evening behind the eight ball, he figured some alcohol wouldn’t make things much worse. “Hendrick's and tonic, please.”

“Sure. Think about what you want for food as well. I already have an order in for ratatouille for Noora, so it’ll be ready when she arrives.”

Aside from the initial subversion, Eskild was all hospitality and business. He served up the classic cocktail and took Isak’s dinner order, then did a run down to every other guest at the bar. It wasn’t too busy for a Thursday evening, but enough to keep Eskild occupied while they both waited for Noora to show.

Isak knew she’d arrived when Eskild sent up another trill. “Noooooooora!” She settled onto the stool next to Isak in a much less flamboyant fashion. Eskild had a beer in front of her in seconds.

“Hi Isak.” She patted his arm.

“Hi.” He was inclined to lean in to give her a cheek kiss, but read her body language and held back.

“I received a lovely letter today.”

“Oh?”

Noora had a small cross body bag on, and she opened it at her hip. She pulled out an envelope with the museum’s logo in the return address.

“Oh.”

But Noora laughed. “Care to explain why I’ve been suspended from your fine institution? I didn’t think I fondled Cupid _too_ much at the benefit.”

She unfolded the letter and Eskild arrived just in time to snatch it out of her hand.

“Ah, well, technically you’re suspended but that was because of Even.”

“Did _he_ fondle Cupid?” Eskild asked while scanning the page.

Isak looked back and forth between Noora and Esklid. Noora was waiting for Isak’s answer. They truly didn’t know.

“Um, no. About two weeks ago he…he licked a painting. I thought you knew. Didn’t he tell you? We had to escort him out of the museum, and since he was there using Noora’s membership, we had to apply disciplinary action to your account. It’s…it’s really a formality. I could probably just undo it.”

“He _licked_ a painting?”

“What’d it taste like?” Eskild asked at the same time as Noora. Despite only knowing the answer to one of those questions, Isak didn’t know who to answer first.

“I don’t know, probably like paint?”

“Wait, seriously? He just went to the museum and licked a painting on the wall?” Noora put her hand on his shoulder to redirect Isak to the more legitimate question.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No. We just came home one day and realized we hadn’t heard from him in a while, and we finally checked his room. By then he was quite unresponsive.”

“Yeah, and at that point we don’t really ask any questions.” Eskild handed the letter back to Noora.

“Oh. Well, I think that’s probably what….” Isak paused. “We uh, he went to the doctor today, for a physical, and he talked to her about what’s been happening. He didn’t tell me much, but he’s going to see a psychologist soon to get a proper diagnosis. He’s clearly struggling with a mental illness, and I think this—the licking—was a bit of…mania.” He angled his hand upward in a trajectory. “Right before his depression.” The hand dove down.

Eskild made frantic snapping noises and pointed at Isak. “That’s it! That’s exactly it! What I’ve been saying this whole time!”

Noora rolled her eyes. “You’ve been saying _nothing_. But yes, that is his usual pattern…if you can call it a pattern. It’s happened before. Not licking a painting, but the change in behavior.”

Isak was surprised by how little they knew considering they lived with the man for years, but perhaps that’s why Even lived with them: because they didn’t ask questions. Or reveal his secrets. Isak had forgotten that he was the new one here, he was on trial. But he forged ahead with his own questions anyway.

“So, that was quite a shock for me, when it happened, but I guess that’s because it was the first time I’d seen it. Do you…if you had known what he was doing, would you have been able to say, ‘Hey, it seems like you might be starting one of your…phases’?” He used Even’s word until he had something more accurate.

Noora cringed. “Sort of. We try to keep an eye on him and respect his privacy but that’s a really delicate balance. Like, with you for example, he was suddenly disappearing for days and nights, and I didn’t know if he was eating or sleeping, and my first thought was that he was off getting into trouble.”

“But he was actually just getting into your bed.” Eskild leaned over the bar to deliver his zinger, then spun away to attend to someone else.

Isak blushed. “I’m sorry. He did say he had to go home and check in with you. I don’t think he was running off, and I didn’t intend to make you worry.”

“Of course not, Isak! Please don’t think I blame you for anything. You’ve been a great help and you’ve kept him safe. Frankly, I’d take a letter of suspension for a painting over most of his other activities any day.” She waved the letter about, and then worked it back into her bag. “It’s just that…I don’t think there has ever been a clear, defining line as to what is a phase and what isn’t. He could be manic, or he could be falling in love or he could be both.”

Isak swallowed at the mention of ‘love’ and the memory of what he’d said to Even. He hadn’t said that exactly, but he knew he was dangerously close.

“Sometimes we see his mania, and sometimes we only see his depression, and I don’t know if it’s because of how it all works or because of what he lets us see. And…it had been quiet for about a year I think.” Noora looked to Eskild then, who had returned, for confirmation.

He nodded. “No shenanigans.” He left.

“He did this thing, over the summer, where he talked to his boss and figured out a new work arrangement. I thought it was just him making progress, telling people what was going on and accounting for what had happened. But now I realize he was just…predicting the future. He saw a pattern, and he was expecting it to repeat. I don’t know if he thought it would happen sooner than now or later, but I guess he was ready for it no matter what.”

It was a sad moment, as Isak and Noora started to understand the extent of Even’s struggles, how every move he made was in anticipation of him losing control. It scared Isak just thinking about it, and he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to actually live like that. He swallowed again, and reached for a much-needed sip of his drink.

Eskild interrupted their contemplation with the delivery of their dinners. Isak was quickly realizing that his most striking feature was his timing. Eskild had brought a fork out for himself and was sharing Noora’s cast iron pan of rainbow vegetables.

When they resumed their conversation, Eskild started with the usual interview questions. Isak told them about his job, his dog, and his apartment. He bonded with Noora over the more pleasant parts of their trips to Paris, and learned about all of her travels. Eskild bluntly stated his relief that Isak was there now, because when Noora had to travel he was the only one keeping an eye on Even.

“I love him, but there’s only so much time you can spend at his door trying hear if he’s breathing…or worse.”

Noora explained: “Eskild is not allowed in his room.”

Isak laughed. “Okay.” He wasn’t going to ask why. “Well, I’m happy to host him for—“

He almost said _forever_.

“Now.” Isak coughed. “Thank you, by the way, for letting me barge in on your home. I hope I’m not creating too much of a disturbance. It’s a little presumptuous of me, but I brought my own pillow tonight, so I can at least return yours.” Isak pointed to the tote bag at his feet. Noora laughed.

“Shall we make a shelf in the fridge for you too?”

Isak took the joke well. “I can probably make do with the entire fridge I have at my own apartment. But thank you for accommodating my ice cream.”

Eskild clicked his tongue. “Oliver was so disappointed when he realized the ice cream wasn’t up for grabs, and that they had another man’s name on it. The _things_ I had to do to make up for that at three in the morning.”

“Oh please Eskild, you would’ve done those anyway.” Noora waved him away, and he hopped back to work.

“Who is Oliver?”

“I believe…yes, I think it’s Eskild’s longest relationship.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Mmm, though I suppose twenty-four hours is not a difficult record to beat.”

“Fuck you, Noora!” floated down from the other end of the bar.

For the rest of the evening Eskild continued to float in and out of their conversation, though it was less frequent when they weren’t obviously talking about Even. Like Kim, Isak had taken a liking to Noora as an impressive reporter and kind friend, beyond the care she provided for her roommates. Her interest in the art world also lent itself to some lively discussions; she had clearly been listening to Kim, and Isak indirectly learned a lot about how his assistant was approaching her own career in the industry.

After bringing out some complimentary sorbets, and helping himself to Isak’s serving this time, Eskild sent them home. “I’m sure Even is waiting up to hear a run down of the multiple ways I judged and dismissed you, but I’m afraid you caught me on a bad night.”

“He’s not going to believe me when I show up in one piece.”

“I must be a changed man.” Eskild flipped a nonexistent hairstyle and sauntered away.

“Goodness, Isak. If this lasts I will consider you one of the most powerful men on the planet.”

“Eh…I’ve heard enough stories to put my money on a delayed attack. He’s probably trying to gain my trust right now. I’ll get the proper Eskild welcome as soon as I let my guard down.”

Noora nodded in agreement. “You know us all too well.”


	32. Even

It was nice sleeping with Isak. It was nice waking up with him too, even though it was stupidly early. Since they didn’t have to account for a dog just yet, Isak set his alarm and spent some time…writhing on top of Even until he had to go. His parting gift was an erection that Even didn’t know what to do with.

He wanted to touch Isak, not himself.

He stared at the ceiling for a while, waiting for his dick to die down. But then he got restless.

He wanted to do something.

He wanted to do something!

But what.

Even got out of bed and paced his room. He straightened his sheets and tucked his painting supplies into a box under his bed. He ignored the supplies that had been under there this entire time, from his last forgotten expedition with oils on canvas. He collected the paintings of grass, stacking them into short towers, and slid those under his bed too. Then there was nothing left to do. Isak had been keeping his room tidy the way people like Isak did: a little bit at a time, never letting it collapse into an overwhelming mess. He should try it sometime.

He explored the rest of the apartment in a relaxed fashion, both because no one else was home and because he was confident enough that he could talk to them if they were. They, or rather Noora, had been keeping the common areas tidy as well. He scooped up a pile of mail from the coffee table.

Even knew he had to face the rest of the world at some point. He figured he could start with the paper one, which moved at a slower, more manageable pace. He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and then carried it with the pile back to his room. He set everything on his desk and pulled out his chair.

There wasn’t anything interesting. He hadn’t been avoiding things long enough for them to turn into problems. His bills were getting paid, and nothing was due for action. He sorted the few papers he needed to keep on file and walked the rest to their recycle bag in the kitchen. The next step he needed to take was to check his accounts, since the bills were being paid by cards and he didn’t know if _those_ were getting paid. But that was more difficult. That required his computer.

He paced his room again. And then before he could even think about it, he lunged for his laptop and turned on the power. The start-up chime was loud. Everything happened so fast.

His email client automatically downloaded two weeks' worth of messages. Two programs opened up with work-in-progress on Isak’s avatar. A browser with the museum’s website, several tabs researching gouache, and an order confirmation from an art supply store refreshed. It was an assault of everything he’d tried to leave behind. 

He took a seat. He shut as much as he could down. He copied the confirmation number from the store’s website and searched for it in his email. He knew what he was going to find, and he was hoping it wasn’t too late to cancel the order or at least figure out his return options. He would definitely have to check his credit card statements.

And he did. Desperate to erase his mistake, he powered through the kinds of tasks that he would usually avoid. He made a phone call, a real phone call, to the art supply store’s customer service line and convinced them to cancel the order. Three sets of very expensive brushes were on backorder so everything was still at the warehouse waiting for release. He was so relieved that it worked out this way that he even laughed at the representative’s “stroke of luck” joke. They were going to refund the shipping charges too, since nothing had happened.

Then he moved on. He checked his accounts and breathed more sighs of relief. He scrolled through his email and began sorting messages. He went with the easy stuff first, just like he’d done with his post: obvious junk swiftly removed, newsletters that were old news due to his absence were trashed without reading. And then work: most of the emails were from Tor, daily succinct summaries of his projects’ progress and advances on the new client deal. He let himself read everything without succumbing to the pressure to respond to anything.

Once he was all caught up, he made another phone call.

Tor answered with reserved excitement. “It’s good to hear from you, Even.”

Even nodded before he remembered he was on a phone, not in his office. “Yes, well, as I’m sure you could tell, I needed that break.”

“Oh right, we’re at two weeks now.”

“Yes. Could I come in, to speak with you, this afternoon?”

Tor paused. “Yes, of course. I don’t have anything scheduled, so just stop by when you can.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you after lunch.”

Not scheduling an exact time with Tor probably wasn’t the best idea, because now he couldn’t figure out if he was going to be too early or too late or manage to interrupt him anyway. But he tried to ignore it. He took a shower and made himself a heaping pile of eggs, enough for breakfast and lunch combined, with a couple of sausages. He dug through his coat pockets and found his keys in his pea coat. He gathered his phone and wallet and stepped out into the cold, but bright day.

Stepping out was both easier and more difficult than yesterday: easier because he’d done it once on his own, but more difficult because he knew Isak was not waiting for him at the end of a short journey. But that journey, with Isak, to the doctor, had sparked something in him, to take another step forward. The day had gone well, but more importantly, Even believed the next day could go well too. He took the bus to his office, ready to tell Tor what he learned.

He made it to Tor’s door without drawing too much attention, without having to handle the expectations of his return. Tor beckoned him in and shut the door behind him. “It’s really good to see you, Even. I’ll admit I’m a bit worried that you wanted to meet, but no matter what direction this goes in, it’s still good to see you.” They both settled into their usual chairs. Even noticed the new game on Tor’s screen, some sort of tour through an intricate yet empty space ship. Tor noticed him watching the screen and smiled. “It’s much more impressive with an AR headset.”

“Ah.”

“So….”

Even cleared his throat. He’d run through an agenda of things he wanted to tell Tor on the ride over, and he would start at the top. “First of all, thank you for the emails. I wasn’t looking at my inbox for…most of the break, so I only just caught up with everything this morning.”

“Oh! Well that’s…a relief. I wasn’t sure if you were reading everything and ignoring me on purpose or simply didn’t want to talk or…what.”

“Well, not on purpose. Just…I wasn’t on my computer or phone at all, so.”

Tor nodded vigorously. “A true vacation: unplugged.”

“Yeah, um, so, that’s why I never answered. And I also didn’t get any of the work done that you’d asked for. It looked like you covered everything, but I’m sorry for forcing you to do that and just…for not keeping up with things in general.”

“It’s okay. We actually had a lead on a composer come to us through another team so it wasn’t much extra effort. In fact it was probably for the better, that you weren’t hunting off on your own. Saved everyone some time, actually.”

“Great.” There wasn’t any enthusiasm behind it, but Even was able to cross one item off of his agenda: all of his outstanding work had been accounted for and appreciated. “Um, next, I’d like to ask for another week of…time. I can take it unpaid; I just don’t think I’m ready to come back to the office just yet.”

Tor looked stunned, but he recovered quickly. “Yes. Yes! Please. You actually have plenty of time to cover another week, so we don’t have to worry about unpaid leave. And even if you didn’t, I have faith that you’d be able to earn that time back very quickly. But yes, another week. Please. Go. We’ll do another check-in next Friday, okay?”

“Thank you, but that’s not all.”

“Sorry. I just got so excited that you wanted more time. I thought…I thought you wanted to talk to me because you were quitting!”

Even’s mouth dropped open. That was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do. In fact, he thought he was there so he could beg for his job. So he could explain, and then beg Tor not to fire him immediately. “No! I’d never—I love my job and I’m so grateful for all your help and, and just the fact that you let me keep it. You’ve been so accommodating while I’ve…struggled, and I feel like I owe you, like, beyond anything I could work to repay you with.”

Tor held up his hands in surrender. “Please, Even. I’m just grateful you want to still be part of the team. And I’m glad we’re back on the same page: we both want you working here. Now….” Another hand gesture opening up the floor to Even.

“Okay, well, I wanted to talk to you about my behavior and my absences. I think, um, we both know that I’m not actually taking vacations. Over the years you’ve been noticing when I start acting strange and come up with excuses to let me work through these…periods in private. I’ve been angry and resentful about that, and only recently I’ve realized what a service you are doing for me. So, on top of thanking you for letting me keep my job, I’d also like to thank you for letting me do it with dignity.

“I went to see my doctor yesterday, and after we talked considerably about what’s been going on, we are predicting that what I’ve been struggling with is probably a bipolar disorder. I’m going to see a psychiatrist in two weeks and get an official diagnosis, and start some sort of treatment."

Tor either was not surprised by Even’s statements or he was disguising it well. He was passive, but listening intently, not even prodding Even to continue when he had to pause to collect his thoughts.

“I’d like to apologize for any problems I’ve caused because I’ve avoided seeking help, and I’d like to prepare you for the potential that more will arise. I do think, that if I were to remain part of this company, that I’ll still need a more flexible schedule than most employees, to accommodate changes that I cannot control even with my best efforts. And it’s less about trying to hide these changes, because they _are_ out of my control and I’m trying to overcome my fear of them, and more about protecting others, and protecting my work.”

He was using a lot of the explanations that his doctor had told him, actively trying to reframe his emotions in a more constructive manner. But it also felt organic: he wasn’t just reciting, he was understanding, as he said things out loud, that this was the path his life was going to take because he was determined to improve it. It was terrifying but necessary. He waited to see if Tor understood as well.

“I accept your apology, Even. And you’re right, I did have a general idea of the…fluctuations in your life. I don’t know the extent of it, but I could see it both in how you expressed yourself and the level of work you produced. It was never a reason to doubt your talents and efforts though, or disregard you as a person. I didn’t know if I could, if I should, help, and those vacations were the best thing I could think of. But, um, we can call them something different now. We can talk about them directly.”

Even smiled and nodded, but didn’t say anything. Tor was letting him open up, but he didn’t know what else to share. Except maybe to say thank you again, but he was starting to feel like a broken record. Apologizing, thanking, groveling…just constantly trying to erase his emotional debt. And that’s what had held him back all these years, simply not being able to escape the kindness of others that he didn’t deserve and didn’t know how to pay back. It was difficult to face. He sat across from it in the office now, he slept next to it at night, he passed by it in the kitchen—

Tor interrupted his silent spiral of anxiety, saving him from having to respond. “Today probably isn’t a good day to start, though. You’ve already shared so much. Why don’t you just…head home and not think about work for another week? We’re handling everything well enough, and we’d rather have you back when you’re more comfortable, rather than forcing something right now.”

Even kept nodding. He choked out another “Thank you.”

Tor stood up, so Even followed suit. He walked Even all the way back to reception, possibly as a shield for his vulnerable state. No one would run up to them with unchecked cheer. He clapped Even on the shoulder at the door. “It’s really good to see you, Even. I’m so glad you called and came by.”

“You too, Tor. Thanks.”

On the bus ride home, once his heartbeat returned to a more normal pace, Even realized he hadn’t asked about the new client. That was on his agenda too, though it was toward the bottom, and eventually forgotten following his reveal. Maybe he would remember it for next week. Or maybe it was for the best if it remained forgotten. If there was an actual client waiting for him when he returned, then doubting Tor wouldn’t be in line with his need to repay his kindness. And if there wasn’t a client, he still knew it was a lie told for his sake. Sometimes those were the ones you needed to tell just to get through the day.

Since he didn’t have his notifications turned on, he didn’t see Tor’s email until he was at home, facing his computer again.

_I’m sorry I couldn’t say this to your face, but I regret not intervening sooner. I’d like to work with you both as an employer and supportive colleague. If you’re willing to share more of your personal life, I’d love to listen and learn about it, but I will also respect whichever boundaries you choose. You are a very talented artist and a compassionate human being, and I hope you’ll be part of our agency for a very long time._

Even responded this time. _Thank you, Tor. Did HR tell you to send this?_

_No, I wrote it on my own. But I had Elise approve it._

Even let out a low chuckle. He should probably send Elise an email as well, to let HR know about his new developments as well as confirm how much vacation time he had available. But he was tired. He replied to Tor once more before shutting everything back down.

_Please keep sending me updates. I’ll respond as I’m able. And I’ll see you next Friday._

* * *

Even woke up when a weight dropped onto his bed and made his own body bounce. “Ooof.” The room was still dark. When he rolled over, he felt, rather than saw, Isak. “Hey.”

“Hi…baby.” The bed was still bouncing. Isak was getting undressed while lying down, and he was struggling a bit.

“We can turn on the light. How was your day?”

“No, it’s fine, just…stupid pants. Stupid day.”

Even heard the pants go flying. He was going to move closer to Isak but was wary of how Isak's arms were still whipping about as he took out his frustrations on his clothes. “What happened?”

“Nothing, which is the problem. I’m in this weird stalemate with Geir and it’s making it so difficult to focus on my actual job.”

“Geir is a little bitch,” Even mumbled. He pushed up onto his elbows and tucked his pillow into his chest. He could get a better look at Isak then, and take in his body. He was down to a pair of black briefs and his white collared shirt. Even shifted his weight to free a hand and he started unbuttoning it from the bottom. “Need a punching bag?”

“Oh? You’re offering?” Isak unbuttoned his collar and worked down.

“You seemed like you needed something this morning.”

“Yeah. I took care of that in the shower though.” Their hands met over Isak’s ribs and pulled the shirt apart. Even spread his palm flat across Isak’s belly.

“Mmm.” Even didn’t really know if that was a rejection or just an explanation. He focused on Isak’s skin instead. His abs were flexing under his touch, slightly ticklish. And even in the dark he could see a different response from Isak’s underwear.

“I could get frustrated though. Again.”

Even looked up to Isak’s face. “This is some weird ass dirty talk.”

“I just don’t want to pressure you if you’re not in the mood, or if you’re tired. You were all curled up when I got here.”

Even shifted closer so he could see Isak’s face better. He looked scared, nervous.

“I went to see Tor today, and I was really tired after our meeting. I just meant to take a nap until you got home.”

Isak’s eyes went wide. “You went to work?!”

“I went to the office to talk to Tor.”

“How’d it go?”

“It was fine. I just explained that it was probably—that I probably have some type of bipolar disorder and that’s why I disappear and….” Even stopped because Isak’s mouth had popped open. “What?”

“Is that what the doctor said? It’s probably bipolar?”

Even was confused. “Didn’t…didn’t I tell you?”

“Not exactly. You just said you talked and then would get an official diagnosis from a psychiatrist.”

“Shit.” Even sat up. Isak quickly did too, not wanting to be too far away from him in the dark. “I’m sorry, I thought I—.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize. I just thought you weren’t ready to tell me everything. I still don’t want to pressure you.”

“No, it’s not that. I just…whenever I look at you, you always have the answer. You always know. I think I thought you already knew, so I didn’t have to tell you.”

Even wanted to turn on the light. He wanted to look at Isak and see what he’d just said on his face. He scrambled out of bed, slapped the switch on the wall, and crawled back in. He moved close to Isak, on his knees, and searched the eyes that knew everything.

“I think you knew. I think Tor knew. I think Noora knew.”

Isak’s hands came up to his neck, thumbs running along Even’s jaw. “I think _you_ knew.”

Even nodded ever so slightly. “I didn’t want to know.”

Isak nodded more firmly. They were quiet, giving the truth some room to breathe. Then Isak’s mouth went tight and he unsuccessfully held back a snort. “I’m so sorry, I was about to say ‘I know.’ But then it sounded stupid. And yet I couldn’t resist.”

Even smiled. “You always know.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

Isak fell backward to escape the conversation, but he didn’t let go of Even’s neck, so Even went with him. Even was too shocked to catch himself with his arms, so he dropped all of his weight on Isak’s chest. He didn’t apologize, because he knew Isak liked that. He just grunted.

Isak drew Even’s face to his own and they kissed those soft kisses that had started their morning. Even got his arms under himself so he could adjust to a more comfortable position, then he tucked them under Isak, wrapping him in a hug. Isak arched his back to make it easier. Their mouths opened and moved as they covered more skin and kissed deeper.

Even’s hands slid to Isak’s ass. He slipped his fingers under the waistband of his underwear, and felt Isak arch again. This gave him better access and also let Even know how aroused Isak was, how quickly a well-placed hand and some kissing could get him in the mood.

Even was in the mood too. And even if he weren’t, seeing what he did to Isak, what he knew to do to Isak, was hot enough. He had Isak trapped beneath him, but he also knew that Isak wanted to be there, under his chest, between his legs, at the mercy of his mouth.

“Even,” Isak sighed. It meant so many things, when Isak said it, but right then it meant “take your clothes off.” Even let go of Isak and rose to his knees, pulling his t-shirt over his head. With his temporary freedom, Isak shoved his underwear down to his knees. Even took them off the rest of the way. Isak’s legs spread apart as soon as they could, and he waited, panting, while Even dealt with his own pants. “Fuck I missed this.” He gave himself a couple of gentle tugs.

“I could tell.” Even slid himself back up Isak’s body, trapping him again.

“It’s…it’s fine, ah, if you don’t want to have sex. I—“

Even stopped him with his mouth. But then he had to breathe, and clarify. “I want to have sex. With you. But—“ He shoved himself off of Isak, flopping over to the edge of the bed. He hung over the side until he could reach the other box under his bed. It didn’t have a lid, but a black sweater hid its true contents. He threw it aside. “Shit.”

“What?”

Even hoisted himself back up to the surface, a bottle in his hand. “I only have lube. Condoms are in the bathroom.”

“You don’t keep them in the same place?”

“Well, technically they’re Eskild’s condoms. And he’s written his name on the box, I think in retaliation for the ice cream. The rest of mine are at your apartment. But I could try to steal one.”

They stared at each other. Even waited for the outcome of the silent debate that Isak was having with himself.

Finally Isak whispered: “Does it matter?”

“I don’t know if I’m clean.”

“But does it matter…if you’re the only one?”

It hurt a little bit, a sharp pressure on Even’s heart, because the question made him think, what if he _isn't_ the only one?

Except he knew. He always knew: Isak is always the only one. The pain faded.

“You’re the only one.”

“You’re the only one,” Isak repeated.

It was an old reassurance and a new promise. It was about their pasts and also about their future. They weren’t, but now they are. They will be.

Even was slower when he moved back between Isak’s legs. Usually he would’ve been overwhelmed by that kind of expectation, that promise. He would’ve bet on the probability of his failure. Except Isak was beneath him again, writhing, desperate for The Sex just like he used to be, and that kept Even’s fears at bay. The hum of familiar pleasure drowned it all out.

They ignored the bottle a little while longer, just rubbing against each other and smiling at how good it felt. Isak hitched his legs around Even’s hips and lightly chewed on Even’s bicep, the closest thing to his mouth when Even cradled his head. The blanket had been kicked away while they warmed up, and Even was free to drag Isak’s body into whichever position they’d like. Isak stayed on his back, but moved to the middle of the bed; he prepared for a pounding that would push him closer and closer to the wall above his head. Even's legs were spread, his cock swollen and tall, resting on his concave belly waiting for action. He squirted some lube onto his fingers and painted Isak’s asshole with calculated strokes. Isak draped his legs over Even's thighs and scooted closer to Even's touch. He shivered and moaned.

“Shut up, I have roommates.”

“That’s not my fucking fault.”

Whether Even’s first finger entering him made him sit up in shock or he just wanted more of it, Isak rose with another moan. Even’s hand was trapped under his butt. Isak kept him there with a kiss. His arms wrapped around Even’s shoulders helped him stay vertical. “Another one,” he asked, directly into Even’s mouth. Even obliged.

They were comfortable. Even found Isak’s prostate pretty quickly but used it sparingly, keeping up a general swirl that only occasionally included a surprise swipe over Isak’s button. Their cocks bounced against each other as their hips begged for more, getting just enough to keep them going. Isak moaned into Even’s ear. Even bit his neck. He was waiting for a cue from Isak to stop, to change a position or move on to thicker, longer penetration, but there was no rush. They were comfortable.

Until Isak clenched hard, involuntarily, on Even’s fingers, and a voice boomed out from behind Even.

“He’s fucking married! Married! Get the fuck out of our apartment! Pull your fucking dick out so I can kick him to the curb!” Eskild had thrown open Even’s door and was yelling from the threshold.

Isak was frozen and Even was trapped. His brain wanted him to lunge for the blanket to cover Isak and twist around to face Eskild at the same time, but he couldn’t do any of it because Isak was still wrapped around him, on him.

“What the fuck Eskild! Shut the fucking door!” Even yelled over his shoulder, the best he could do. At least his body was shielding Isak’s nudity, though it was obvious what they were doing.

“Not until this cheating asshole leaves.”

“Eskild, please.” Noora begged from a distance.

Even didn’t believe a thing Eskild was saying, partly because it didn’t make sense, but the fact that Isak wasn’t yelling back, wasn’t defending his honor or refuting Eskild’s claim, was noticeable. Even couldn’t see him though, as he was firmly clinging to his shoulder. “Shut the fucking door, Eskild. Let me at least put on some pants before you ruin my life.”

Eskild cackled, but Even heard his door shut, and any further screams from his roommate were muffled by the barrier. Once he was gone, Even could focus on Isak, on how heavily he was breathing, how tight he was clinging, and how absolutely immobile his own fingers were, still buried deep inside.

“Baby, I need my hand back.”

“It’s…not true.” Isak’s voice was shaking. His whole body was.

“Hold on. We’ll talk about it in a minute. Let’s just…let go.” Telling Isak to relax, and to relax a very specific part of his body, was not going to work. Even tried to move his fingers, as if some reverse psychology would work on Isak’s asshole.

Isak let out a low wail. Even didn’t know what he sounded like when he cried, but this was probably close. Eskild pounded on his door.

“Jesus _christ_ ,” Even shouted to the ceiling. In his frustration, he extracted his fingers with force. Isak’s wail ratcheted up into a scream, and he pushed himself away from Even in pain. “Fuck, I’m sorry Isak, I had to.” Even quickly wiped his fingers on the sheet and finally lunged for the blanket. He dragged it up and over Isak, who had curled away from Even into a shaking ball. “Hold on. I need to go punch my roommate.” He tucked Isak in and kissed his cheek.

Even found his pajama pants and shoved his legs into them as he walked to his door. When he pulled it open, Eskild was only a few feet away on the other side, arms crossed, cartoon steam billowing out of his ears. Noora was ineffectively tugging on his elbow. 

“Your little boyfriend is a fucking liar and a cheater.”

“Eskild, _no_.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Even was too confused to actually punch him, but his fist remained balled at his side.

“ _Nothing_ , Even, this is just a misunderstanding.”

“ _How_ is this a misunderstanding? Why does Eskild think Isak is married, is cheating?” He directed his question to Noora this time, understanding that she had the answers he wanted.

“Why the fuck does it matter? Get him out of here!” Eskild lunged toward the door but Noora had a firm grip.

“It matters because it’s absolutely bullshit. You need proof before you go accusing someone of something like that.”

“Even—oof.” Noora grunted when Eskild lunged again. “Even, Eskild is upset because I got a text from Isak’s assistant.”

“Kim?”

“Yes, Kim. She said, ‘Did you know Isak has a husband?’”

“What?!”

“ _See_? Now, please let me go because I have a dick to chop off.”

“ _No_.” Noora yelled. It was rare that she actually yelled, so both men stopped and looked at her. “Calm the fuck down. I was trying to confirm this before anyone blew it out of proportion and started…chopping dicks. I asked you, Eskild, in case you’d heard anything. I replied to Kim asking her how she knew, and she said his boss was talking about it. I was going through the tax administration records at work trying to find a certificate, but there was nothing. Legally, he’s not married.”

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t a fucking cheater.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Even pointed at Eskild. He refocused on Noora and smoothed his voice. “Can I see the text?” 

Noora dragged Eskild back to the couch and shoved him into the seat. She picked up her phone from the coffee table and showed the text message exchange to Even. It was exactly as she’d described, no more, no less. Whatever Even had been thinking, this did nothing to convince him either way. But instead of standing there and running through all of the possibilities in his head, from the best possible scenario to the worst, he turned around and went back to his room. At his door, he sent one last threat over his shoulder to Eskild. “If you ever enter my room without permission like that again, I’ll cut _your_ dick off.”

“I didn—!” Even didn’t turn to see what had shut Eskild up before he could complete his denial, but it didn’t matter. He slammed the door behind him and shut it all out anyway.

Isak was dressed, sitting on the end of his bed. He didn’t look up with Even returned, but he spoke immediately. “I’m not cheating on you. I’m not married.”

“I know.” Even knew. “But your museum, and my roommates, think you are.”

Isak sighed, and his breath was still shaky. He ran a hand through his curls. “I know.”

“I’m sorry Eskild barged in like that. I can’t lock my door, but….” Even twisted around, trying to see if there was anything he could use to block it in the future. But then he turned back to Isak, unable to not look at him for too long.

Isak was staring back at him. “It’s you. You’re my husband. I’m sorry.”

Even laughed out of shock. “What?”

Another sigh. “When I went to Paris, it ended up being more than just closing my trade deal. Hubert asked me to move there, to work for his museum, and step into his role when he retires in a few years. In order to decline the proposition, I had to say I was married, that I have a family here that I was not willing to abandon for him. So I told him about you, my husband. He must’ve told Geir, and Geir must have....I don’t know, yelled it out to the whole office because it was such a surprise to everyone. And then Kim, and then Noora.” Isak flopped backward and pulled a corner of the blanket over his head in embarrassment. Another “I’m sorry” struggled to escape the fabric.

Even laughed. It still didn’t make much sense, but he believed the explanation because it at least made more sense than Isak _cheating_ , than Isak managing to hide a whole other person from him. And it had the same feel as when Isak explained why he didn’t have any photos of Ophelia. It was silly, but somehow it fit. “Do, um, do you have a plan for this husband of yours?”

Isak flipped back the blanket to look at Even. “What do you mean?”

“How important is it that you stay married? Will you get in trouble for lying to your boss, or Hubert?”

Isak’s eyes went to the ceiling. “God, fuck. I don’t know. It was an impulse decision to use you as an excuse, and it just kind of…made things worse anyway.”

“Oh, right, your stalemate.”

“Yeah. So…I will probably need to pretend for a little while longer, about you. I’m sorry.”

Even bent down to pick up his shirt and finish getting dressed. “Okay. Well, if we’re married, I think we need to make an announcement.”

Isak sat up. “No, you don’t have to—“

“Yeah I do. First of all, I need to prove Eskild wrong. Second of all we have to tell Noora before she blows your cover with Kim.” Even was surprisingly calm and collected about the whole thing, almost finding a hint of fun in it. Though that could have been just his desire for shutting Eskild down after the incredibly rude interruption and accusation. Either way, he was willing to play along, help Isak save face. It didn’t mean anything in terms of their actual relationship, but he was going to help Isak keep his job. He owed him that. Even offered his hand. “Let’s go.”

Isak looked around the room, as if there was another option, some way to stand by his excuse without having to involve Even. But there wasn’t. And if there had been, Even’s anxiety would’ve figured it out. Instead he dove head first into the role and they walked out to the living room like the couple they were, the couple they were pretending to be.

Eskild and Noora were sitting on the couch, facing each other, heads bowed over Noora’s phone. They snapped to attention when Even and Isak appeared. Even held up a finger to prevent either of them from talking. “Technically, Isak is not married. He also is not cheating on me, or anyone else for that matter. He told people he worked with that he had a husband during a conversation about moving to a different country for a job.” Even turned to Isak to confirm the details.

“Yes. I was offered a job at a different museum, on the condition that I move there. Aside from simply…not wanting to do that at all, I needed to provide additional reasons why I could not leave my museum or Oslo, and this—“ he raised their clasped hands—“was one of them. I regret not telling Even that he was complicit in my rejection, but after talking to my current boss, I now know that Even is a critical part of how I’m going to _keep_ my current job. So he will remain ‘my husband’ until further notice.

“I’m going to talk to Kim…somehow. I still need to think how I’m going to approach it. But for now, could you please not confirm or deny anything with her? I’m not pleased with the fact that my office is talking behind my back about it but I understand why, since it _is_ a surprise. I just…I’m going to take the weekend to figure out a better plan and talk to people on Monday.”

Noora hopped up onto her knees and leaned over the back of the couch. “Of course Isak, we’ll play along. I’m sorry we caused such a disturbance—“

At her joint apology, Eskild stood up and stormed to his own room, clearly not interested in being included in that particular activity. The door slammed.

“Oh, so he _does_ know how to shut a door,” Even observed.

“Even.”

“Noora, I have _one_ rule. Well, now I have two. But they’re simple: please treat my husband with the same amount of respect that you treat me, and do not go into my room without permission.”

They all stared at each other for a moment, and then everyone broke out into giggles. It sounded ridiculous, calling Isak his husband. It was ridiculous to say and ridiculous to hear.

“Ahhh shit, we really need to work on this if it’s ever going to be believable that we got married.” Isak covered his face with his free hand.

“You made our bed. Now we have to sleep in it.”

“Might be better if we do it at my apartment though.”

The giggles continued.

Even wanted to kiss Isak, just because he seemed lighthearted and happy for the first time since he’d come back from Paris. Even hadn’t noticed how heavy his heart must’ve been, but now that the secret was out, now that they could laugh about it, he could see the difference. He leaned over and tugged on Isak’s hand, which automatically drew Isak’s cheek to his lips.

“Aww, look at the newlyweds,” Noora cooed.

Even laughed. “Okay, we’re leaving.”

* * *

They did actually leave. It was late and everyone was tired but neither Even nor Isak felt comfortable in Even’s room with Eskild still fuming on the other side of their shared wall. Even put on what he had worn to the office earlier and shoved his pajamas into a bag. He debated bringing his laptop to Isak’s, not sure how long he was going to be there and what kind of mood he’d be in, but ultimately left it on his desk. He took Isak’s book though, which he was almost done with.

On the bus ride to the apartment they ordered food from Isak’s phone, and met the delivery guy at the door. Ophelia was overjoyed to see them both and did not let them get beyond the coat rack without thorough pets and promises of eternal adoration. But then they all retired to the bedroom.

They ate their noodles with plastic forks and licked each other’s faces when the sauce spread from errant slurps. Ophelia left the room when Even started licking more aggressively, without sauce, and Isak made noises that were not roommate-approved. He made Even stop briefly, so he could set their plastic bowls on his desk, but was back in bed before Even had a chance to get naked. Isak helped him with that.

“We’re just going to fuck all weekend, huh,” Even observed, licking a small circle around Isak’s left nipple.

“Is there…ah, a problem with that?”

“No, I just feel stupid for carrying the book all the way over here when I’m not going to read a single word.”

He read Isak’s face, and did what it told him to do: lick the other nipple.

“Maybe you can…read…while you’re on…the toilet.”

Even snapped his head back. “Again, this is just some stellar dirty talk from you.”

Isak rolled his eyes and shoved Even’s chest. “Shut up. I don’t think you’re allowed to make fun of your husband, especially when, technically, we’re on our honeymoon.” Even had fallen back easily from the push, and Isak crawled forward to straddle his chest. His dick, hard and heavy, tapped at Even’s collarbone.

“It’s constructive criticism.”

“I’ll show you constructive criticism. Suck my cock.”

Even’s face lit up. “See? You’re already improving!”

Isak groaned. Even licked. Isak groaned again.


	33. Isak

The honeymoon was divine. Isak relished the return of Even’s libido, and they did spend the whole weekend fucking. As a joke Isak left the book in the bathroom, on top of the toilet tank, and he couldn’t contain his laughter when Even cursed him out through the closed door. But the book stayed there. 

When he went back to work on Monday, Even went back to his apartment. He was tempted to have him stay at home, to keep Ophelia company and to be ready and waiting for him at the end of the day, but neither of them wanted that. Isak just didn’t want to leave the fantasy he’d been living in for the past two days. In his bed they could be whoever they wanted to be. At the museum he had to define it.

Camilla sent him an email as soon as he walked in. _Come for a visit sweetie._

He went straight to her office, not even stopping to drop his bag or take off his coat. He strolled in and took a seat opposite her. “Sweetie?”

“Darling?”

“In our entire time working here, I don’t think you’ve ever used endearments with me.”

“Trying something new. Might as well.”

He squinted at her. “Okay.”

“Have you heard anything?”

“No, but I don’t expect to until we’re called in to his office to be presented with new contracts.”

“And you think that’s going to happen?”

Isak shrugged. “That was the point of our whole conversation. Did you get a different impression?”

“Well he could always go the other way and just say…fuck it, finish your terms and find another museum. That’s how we got our jobs in the first place, Mikael was pushed out.”

“Really? I thought he went to Germany.”

“Eventually, yes. But he was phased out here first, because Geir wasn’t going to leave anytime soon and he had nowhere else to go. They were nice about it, and gave him time to look for other opportunities, but it was because they didn’t need him here.”

“And you think we’re next?”

“Isn’t that why you went to Paris?”

Camilla was right, mostly. It was an attempt to hand off Isak and make it look like it was his choice. But he’d heard Geir’s motives, his weak explanation, before Camilla had been called in. He had taken more stock in Geir’s understanding of his future than Camilla could have. He silently debated whether or not he should share that, whether it was told to him in confidence and whether it would actually help their situation. Camilla interrupted him though.

“Anyway, it’s why I’ve been looking at Toronto.”

“Toronto?”

“If I’m leaving, I’m going to leave on my own terms, and I’ve been looking into Toronto’s terms to see if we...are a match.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I hosted a lovely dinner for Stephan while he was ‘on vacation.’ We really connected over his educational outreach and accessibility efforts. But we’re just talking. In the very least I’m just making sure he knows I’m…available.”

" _Are_ you available?”

“I could be. I suppose it’s more of a precaution. That weird talk we had with Geir put me on edge, and now waiting almost a week in near silence is not helping.”

“Jesus, Camilla. I don’t…I don’t think we’re going to be phased out. I thought that was a positive discussion about how we’ll both work together _here_ , not in Paris or Toronto.”

“That’s a lovely dose of confidence you have Isak. Maybe I’m overreacting, but…I don’t know, it always feels like the rug is about to be ripped out from under me. And I don’t know if that’s more because of who Geir is or because of who I am. I have to watch my back, because I don’t have a Frenchman doing it for me.”

Isak almost laughed. Hubert was certainly not watching his back. Maybe Isak’s ass, but in general he was much more interested in his own life to care about anyone else’s. “But Camilla, if I was the one he was phasing out to Paris, that would mean your future here is secure. I don’t think he’d throw us both out and have to start from scratch.”

Camilla shrugged, but not in passivity. “Some people do that. They go for someone ‘fresh,’ which is code for younger and cheaper, different enough to fool the board into thinking that the changes are so strange that they must be good. God, fuck the art world.” Her true frustrations were bubbling to the surface.

“Should we demand a meeting with Geir then? Demand something concrete before we go off searching for other options?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s not very smart. I’m not going to make a threat until I have something secure in hand.”

Isak did actually laugh now. It wasn’t the first time Camilla had called him out for a less than intelligent decision. “Fine. I know it’s not ideal, but we’ll see what move Geir is going to make. Keep talking to Stephan. Let me know if you have any other secrets you want to share.” He leaned forward in his chair, getting ready to stand and finally make his way to his office.

“You first, _sweetie_.” The way Camilla drew out the name made him pause though, and return her very pointed look. Isak cocked an eyebrow.

“If you have a question you’d like to ask me, Camilla, darling, you should be forthright with it.”

She leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know if I actually have a question. It’s more of a curiosity. As in: I’m curious why Geir yelled, ‘Did anyone fucking know that Isak was married?’ to the entire floor on Tuesday morning and didn’t even wait for a response. Not like anyone had one to give. Because I think, per a recent conversation we had, you wanted us to call you ‘slutty,’ which doesn’t quite…fit my image of a married man.” Camilla tilted her head, examining Isak, as if she were swiping back and forth between two filters: slutty and married.

Isak stood. “Well, there’s nothing stopping someone from being married and also being a slut. But to satisfy your curiosity, I would have to say…I am no longer slutty.” Isak turned and left, leaving the absolute tease of an answer hanging in the air behind him. He escaped to his office, where he closed his door, unwound his scarf, and smiled at his successful avoidance of outright lying to Camilla. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep up the coy act, but he was certainly going to keep trying.

Camilla texted him while he hung up his coat. _Sweetie, darling, that was a giant polished pile of bullshit. I could probably sell it to a gallerist in New York and never have to work at a museum again._

_Je suis un artiste. By the way, I’d be happy to tutor you in French. Might come in handy in Toronto._

* * *

Even met Isak outside his apartment on Wednesday evening. They went upstairs together. While Isak changed out of his suit, Even hooked Ophelia up to her leash and teased her about the impending walk in a high pitched voice. She got excited, because it was Even, but then she also calmed down, because it was Even. Once Isak was ready, they took a slow and steady pace on her usual route.

“Is this a special occasion, or did you just want me to walk your dog?”

“You are an _excellent_ dog walker.” Even laughed. “But um, not really. I just wanted to sleep with you, and it feels slightly less like a booty call if you also perform other services.” Even laughed again.

Isak was also hoping he’d cross paths with Geir again, or better yet, Geir would spot them from across the park, answering his curiosities with an assumption rather than Isak having to lie to his face. But he didn’t reveal that to Even. He just held his hand and talked about what toppings they wanted to get on the pizza they were going to pick up on the way back to the apartment.

Isak was still getting acquainted with Even’s tastes, what he preferred to experience in his world when he wasn’t trying to hide from it. He liked cheesy pizza, but also peppers and onions, and Isak allowed it as long as Even promised to brush his teeth before he tried to kiss him.

“I promise. Do you have a toothbrush I can borrow?”

Isak dropped Even’s hand and sprinted away in mock offense, but Ophelia barked at him so he returned to Even’s side. “Bitch can’t take a joke,” he muttered into his scarf, as if he would earn a proper bite from the dog if she heard him clearly. While she never had bitten anyone, perhaps this would be the “bitch” that made Ophelia snap.

Even waited outside the pizza place with her, and chatted with whoever stopped to pet Ophelia while Isak was inside for the pick-up. Isak glanced at him through the window, feeling comforted by the sense of ownership he had over both of them, by the sense of ownership they both let him have. He was going to walk out of there with a hot pie and both of them were going to follow him home. It warmed him to the bone.

They ate dinner on the couch. They made out on the couch. Despite Isak’s earlier demand, he found it didn’t really matter when they both tasted like onions and cheese. And he wasn’t about to delay this particular event for ten minutes in the bathroom.

Eventually they paused to clean up the napkins and pizza box, but they were quick to resume in the kitchen. Isak liked it when Even pressed him against the counter, when he wanted to feel helpless and then when he wanted leverage for his return attack. He had Even’s fly undone and a hand shoved into his boxers when he floated a question into the very little space left between them. “Do you think we could—?”

“No, counter is too high.”

Even tried to pick Isak up, grabbing his ass, but it was the wrong angle, or he simply wasn’t strong enough for all of Isak’s weight. They stumbled. Isak covered it up by pretending that he was escaping Even’s grasp by running to the bedroom, not that Even had failed to hold on to him of his own accord. He was in his closet when Even caught up with him. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Nothing fancy.” Even finished stripping and dropped his clothes into Isak’s hamper. They’d sort it all out later.

“Yeah, me neither. Also I’m super aware of the fact that we just ate a whole pizza so I don’t know….”

Even laughed. “We don’t have to ‘do butts’ tonight.” He put enough emphasis on the phrase for Isak to remember the reference and laugh with him.

Isak turned away from his closet, taking the only possible tool they would need for an evening of “nothing fancy.” He tossed the bottle of lube on the bed and stepped into Even’s now fully naked embrace. He ground his hips against Even’s erection. “Usually I plan better for this kind of…shit.” He realized the pun as he was saying it, and followed it up with an eye roll. Then he buried his face in Even’s neck.

“Yeah, but it’s also kind of sexy when you don’t. Like we have to stop and really think about what our bodies want _right now_. We didn’t know what we were going to do, it just happened. And now we get to improvise.”

Isak was listening, but he was also…not. He improvised his way down the middle of Even’s chest, following the faint trail of hair that led from his belly button and bloomed into his bush. Whether or not Even had more to say about how Isak’s digestive system was actually sexy, neither of them talked. Even let out a heavy exhale, and Isak filled his mouth with cock.

* * *

Isak didn’t let him come. Even reciprocated, shoving Isak onto his bed and setting up shop between his legs, but only using his mouth to take Isak to the edge as well. They were sweaty with sweet frustration, and ended up spread out across Isak’s bed dozing and talking, gathering strength to start up again and finish the job properly.

“What’s it like to want to get married?” They hadn’t been talking about anything particularly in depth; Isak asked the question with the same lightness. It was a curiosity on his mind that was too innocent to be restrained by a filter.

“Uh, not counting this, I’ve never been married.”

“I know, but you wanted to get married. You bought a ring for your girlfriend. What was that _want_ like?”

Even clicked his tongue. “It felt like a mistake.”

Isak turned to his side, found Even, and propped himself up on an elbow to look at him. Their voices were still light, but he knew he’d be able to read more from what Even was saying if he watched him say it. “Now it does, but before…?”

“Eh. I suppose it felt…right. Everything feels right though. Bad decisions stop existing. There are no consequences to consider. So…it felt right, but looking back it feels like it was impossible. I don’t think I can answer your question.”

“Well, you did.”

They went quiet. Isak reached over and ran his fingers up and down Even’s closest body part: his arm. He made sure he wasn’t doing it so softly that it would tickle but so hard that it would imply something else. Even understood that this quiet was wanted and this touch was self-contained.

Isak liked Even’s answer. Or he at least liked that it meant Even was on the same page as him. He didn’t like that Even experienced parts of his life that he could not, did not want to, claim. But he liked that Even didn’t know what it was like to want to get married. It meant that neither of them knew, and Isak didn’t have to acknowledge that it was exactly what he wanted.

It’s what he’d been worrying about, ever since they “announced” their “marriage,” that this little joke was actually something he wanted to be true. He wanted to know if what he was feeling, this desire, was what he thought it was. He wanted to compare it to Even’s experience, if he had loved someone to the point of buying a ring, of asking them to marry them. But because Even didn’t actually have that experience, he didn’t have anything to compare it to. So he didn’t have anything to confirm what his feelings were, and that was okay. For some things, that is okay, to not know.

He did wonder if he ever would, though. How did you know you were falling in love? How did you know when Cupid was Triumphant? How did you know when you were supposed to ask someone to marry you, instead of just joke that you already were? Sometimes, when he thought back on parts of their relationship, it all felt like a joke. That was another issue: he was struggling with distinguishing the jokes from the reality. He knew it was all real, but it was all so different from anything he’d experienced before, that it sounded like a joke. A never-ending joke. Till death do them part.

Isak stopped running his slow rub and let his hand rest over Even’s, until Even turned his palm up and they threaded their fingers into a clasp. He dropped down to his stomach and closed his eyes. They slept for a little bit.

A couple of hours later Even pulled himself across Isak’s back, draping himself like a blanket. A blanket with a boner. Isak woke up to that beautiful dick spreading his ass cheeks, and it was such a nice feeling that he was tempted to not disturb it. But then his blanket started thrusting. It was gentle and slow but undeniably a request. Even’s boner was texting him: _U up?_

Isak grunted. “Uhhn.”

Even grunted back. “Hnn?”

“Lube.”

Even had tossed the bottle away during his blowjob. He recovered it without removing his dick, and the next thing Isak felt was the cold gel drizzling over Even’s penis and dripping into his crack in the process. It was cold but efficient. He reached back and felt Even’s knees at his waist. He kept his eyes closed, though perhaps it wasn’t necessary in the dark, and pictured the body parts he was feeling. He tested his memory, his knowledge of the only man he was going to have sex with for the rest of his life.

Then he cracked a joke: “I’d marry your cock if I could. Buy a ring for it.”

Even let out a low chuckle. Isak felt him lift his weight off of his ass, and heard him stroking the lube around his dick more thoroughly, and then felt his hand spreading his cheeks. He simply relaxed and let Even do the work.

When he was inside, Isak hitched up his legs and gave Even a couple of preliminary squeezes. They rearranged their knees for comfort and range, and then Even’s weight returned across his back. He kissed Isak’s shoulders. He whispered into Isak’s left ear. “I think you already did.”

* * *

Isak was exhausted when his alarm went off, when Ophelia jumped up onto the bed. They both groaned, as the dog was indiscriminately stepping on their balls in her wake-up call. Even, who seemed to have more energy despite the fact that he had probably exerted more effort throughout the night, sat up and hauled Ophelia back to the floor. Maybe he just had more sensitive balls, and thus was in more pain. Isak’s dick twitched just thinking about his balls.

But Even didn’t hang around to acknowledge it. He was up and out of bed and pulling an acceptable outfit from Isak’s rack. “I’ll handle her. You can sleep.”

“God, that’s the sexiest fucking thing you’ve ever said to me.” Isak adjusted his morning wood and snuggled back under the blanket. He fell asleep before he heard the apartment door shut.

He woke up when they returned. He stayed under the covers, but he listened to Ophelia’s kibble clatter into her bowl, and Even put his outfit back on the hangers they’d been ripped from. He didn’t open his eyes until Even talked. “Eskild texted me.”

“Now?”

“He just got back from work. He wants you to come to the bar on Friday night.”

“Why?”

Even slid back into bed. They found each other in the dark, warm cave. His hands were cold but Isak didn’t shy away from them. It was his duty to heat them up.

“I don’t know. Said he wanted to talk. I’m hoping he’d like to apologize but he also might just serve you a cocktail on the house and consider that enough of a penalty.”

“Were you invited too?”

“Not explicitly, but if he texted me to invite you, I think he’s aware that I would show up as well.”

“Will you?”

“Yeah.” Even kissed him. It was just a peck, because they had onion breath and morning breath, and they weren’t quite horny enough to override it. “I’m going to go to work that afternoon, so I can meet you at the bar for dinner.”

“You’re going back?”

Even nodded. “I think my vacation is done.”

“Okay. Well that will be nice.” He was quiet for a moment, and then Isak realized: “It’ll be our second date.”

“Damn. Haven’t had one of those in a while.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“I’m kind of scared.”

“Me too. Will you hold my hand?”

Isak laughed when Even’s hand found his dick and very intentionally held that instead.

They didn’t get involved in another round in bed. In the shower they jerked each other off. They brushed their teeth, and giggled when Isak showed him the drawer that now only held one toothbrush.

“Did you throw them all out?”

“No, I’m not stupid. I put them in a bag in the closet. We’ll use them eventually.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.”

Isak blushed when it came off as earnest commitment instead of another joke about being married. But then he actually felt stupid for trying to hide from it. He had done that on purpose. He’d meant to send a message. And it had been noticed and received with the ideal level of sentimentality. Even had saved a more appreciative kiss for after they were done brushing.

Then he stood next to Isak and waited while Isak finished his skincare routine. He watched Isak through the mirror. Then he reached out and tugged at the center panel that was also a door to the medicine cabinet.

“You’ve been here how many times and you haven’t snooped on your own yet?”

“No, I just want to look at you without having to look at myself.”

Isak stopped mid-massage, his fingertips at his cheeks and mouth falling open like a cartoon scream. Even had opened the door just enough to still see Isak but make his own reflection disappear. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if he could comprehend what Even was saying. “You don’t like looking at yourself?”

Even shook his head.

“But you’re so pretty.”

Even gave him half of a smile. “I only see the ugly things, so it’s not something that’s easy to do. I’d rather not if I can avoid it.” Even blushed at his own truth. The mirror was turned away but he still dropped his eyes to the sink.

Isak quickly finished rubbing in his cream and rinsed his hands. Then he turned to face Even, taking the mirror out of the relationship entirely. “Looking at you is the easiest thing for me to do. I do it without thinking. I do it whenever I can.” As he did it then, he repeated: “Easy.”

Even fidgeted under Isak’s steady gaze. Isak didn’t think it was intense—he was not glaring or examining or questioning—but he was learning that Even saw himself differently. Even saw Isak differently. Even saw Isak seeing Even differently. There was no truth that they would both know until they said it to each other.

“So easy. And I think someday, maybe, it’ll be easy for you too. Or maybe it won’t. But I hope you’ll at least be able to understand why it’s easy for me.”

There was another half smile. “You’ll teach me.”

“Yeah. Or you’ll teach yourself.”

Even could meet Isak’s eyes then, if only for a moment. But they connected, and that was enough. Before the moment was drawn out beyond its limit, Isak redirected them to avoid sliding backward into awkwardness. “Let’s get dressed. I have tours to give and a boss to avoid. Big day.”

He gave Even a light smack across his bottom as they left the bathroom.

* * *

On Friday Even texted Isak to confirm that he had actually said yes to meeting for dinner at Eskild’s that night.

_Yes! Meeting you there at 7._

He had given himself enough time to take care of Ophelia and change into something slightly more casual than his work suit. He still looked nice, because it was a date, but he also wanted to be comfortable, because he was facing Eskild. He still didn’t know what exactly he was walking into, but he wasn’t expecting a complete turnaround from their last door-slamming encounter. In any event, he was going to do his best to be diplomatic: he would stand up for himself, but he wasn’t going to hurl accusations back at the guy. He, like Even, hoped they could just talk.

Though doing that at a bar on a Friday night seemed counterintuitive. Perhaps Eskild wanted a home field advantage.

Isak packed a tote bag, not sure where he would end up that night. He made no promises to Ophelia when he pet her goodbye. His second journey to Eskild’s restaurant was the opposite of his first, because now he had time to worry.

He was all worked up by the time he pulled open the door to the restaurant, and would’ve jumped out of his shoes if he heard another “Riccardo!” pierce the air. Instead he only heard Even’s gentle call of his name, and then he only saw his boyfriend sitting at a table in the corner. Isak felt his whole body relax as he walked over to him. “Hey.”

“Hi. He’s not working tonight.”

“Oh, so he canceled?”

“No, I just mean that’s why we’re sitting at a table instead of the bar. We’re going to actually have dinner with him.”

“I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

Even shrugged. “It makes more sense. We can actually talk instead of just getting one-liners between rounds.”

“True.” Isak settled into the chair next to Even, tucking his tote bag behind his feet, and picked up the menu in front of him. There wasn’t one for Eskild, but that also made sense. For a few minutes they figured out what they were going to order. They were both really hungry.

After a waitress took their orders, Isak asked Even about his day.

“It was fine. I didn’t get to the office until the afternoon. Took the morning slow by just answering emails at home. But it was nice getting back in front of my tools again. And seeing my coworkers. A lot of people stopped by to chat.”

“That’s nice.” Isak reached out and held Even’s hand across the corner of the table that separated them. Classic second date move.

He watched Even as he talked, as he explained how he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to talk about his problems or if he should just ignore them like they all used to. He watched Even to see if he could tell how much he’d changed over the past couple of weeks. He had a bit more color in his cheeks, but they were still a little sunken in. It would probably come off as “defined cheek bones” if he were describing himself as a model, but Isak could tell it was apathy more than “good genes.” It was a small comfort that Even ordered a hearty meal.

Isak didn’t zone out completely though. “Maybe you could just try a need-to-know basis. If people ask you about it, you can respond honestly. But you don’t have to go around waving a flag to announce it. Especially if you’re concerned with what they think, or imposing that information on them. If they’re curious enough they’ll ask, and if they’re not, then they probably aren’t bothered by the mystery of it.” He couldn’t say that his own coworkers operated under the same rules, but perhaps office politics were less shady beyond the museum walls.

Even was considering Isak’s advice when Eskild, with his perfect timing, yelled out another “Riccaaaaaardo!” from the door. Isak’s asshole clenched in conditioned fear.

“Shit.”

Even squeezed his hand in response, and chuckled. “It’s just Eskild. We’re wearing clothes this time.”

They watched as Eskild went behind the bar and served himself a beer before heading to their table. When he finally arrived everyone stood and exchanged cheek kisses.

“You’re in a good mood,” Even noted.

“I have a Friday off. I’m probably the happiest man on earth right now. I was literally asleep an hour ago.”

Eskild looked earnestly excited about this fact, and it calmed Isak to see it because he felt Eskild was less likely to drop some sort of bomb to ruin his own mood. And he didn’t.

They talked comfortably about mundane things, completely avoiding their last encounter, let alone even acknowledging that it happened. Even held Isak’s hand on the table until their food arrived and they had to eat, but he would reach for it during pauses. If Eskild had a problem with their relationship, that little public display wasn’t bothering him. And the conversations were balanced; they bounced around topics that they could all contribute to. A significant amount of time was spent speculating about Noora’s love life, which varied so greatly that neither of her roommates could predict her next move.

“It’s entertaining at least. And I don’t have to play fifth wheel as long as she stays single.”

“She’s the fifth wheel. You’re still with Oliver, yes?” Even pointed out with his fork.

“Yes, but…you know. We’re not married, _like you_.”

It was another accusation, but kinder.

“By the way, when are you moving in?”

Isak was too stunned by the question to interpret the tone, or even figure out which one of them he’d asked. They both stumbled over words, spitting out sounds, in response.

“Uh—“

“I’m—“

“We’re—“

Isak looked at Even. “We’ve never talked about that.”

“But you’re going around telling people you’re married?”

“N-no, not really. Just if I have to have the excuse.”

“It’s kind of a joke, actually.” Even tried to help explain, but it wasn’t making any sense to Eskild.

“This is…weird.”

“I think, for now, we’re just going to do…this.” Isak spoke to Even, wanting to answer Eskild but not wanting to do it without Even’s permission. He spoke slowly and waited for Even to stop him. “Dating…each other…staying at your apartment or mine. Ophelia will show up when she wants to.”

“Who the fuck is Ophelia?”

Eskild obviously thought, in addition to sort of not being married, that they were also in a throuple. Isak nearly shouted: “She’s my dog! My dog. She’s visited a couple of times.”

“Jesus.” Eskild held his hand over his heart as if they’d all narrowly missed a heart attack. “Shit, I forgot you had a dog.”

“She’s very nice. I think you’ll like her. Smart, too.” Even quickly jumped in to help calm everyone down.

“She looooooves Even.”

“Well, yes, but you can tell that Isak is her number one.”

“Semper fido.”

Eskild scrunched up his nose. “Can you hear yourselves? You really are married. Congratulations, Even, you’re a stepfather. Ugh.” Eskild pulled his napkin out of his lap and threw it onto the table. “I’m going to go sweet talk my way out of the check and then let’s go home and eat Isak’s ice cream.”

Eskild disappeared and they both took the moment to catch their breath. They looked at their empty plates instead of each other.

Even spoke first: “I’m not moving.”

“Me neither.”

Then they looked at each other in sync.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Is…is Eskild really going to eat my ice cream?” Isak asked with as much concern as he’d given their living situation discussion.

Even threw his head back with a laugh that made the whole restaurant turn and stare. “Yes. That’s probably the price we have to pay for the visits. But we’ll buy more.”

Whether or not Eskild managed to sweet talk his way out of the check, he still covered dinner. When he returned they gathered their coats, and all three of them walked back to Even’s apartment. Isak held Even’s hand and Eskild pretended to gag at the sight of it. Even rolled his eyes.

Inside, Eskild went straight for the kitchen. Even went to the bathroom. Isak wanted to go to the bedroom and wait for Even there, but he also wanted ice cream. He followed Eskild.

As soon as they walked in, Eskild spun around to stop Isak. “I’m sorry about before. About thinking you were cheating and interrupting. That’s what this is all about. I wanted to apologize.”

“O-okay. Thank you.”

“I won’t eat your ice cream.”

Isak gave him a small laugh, to disguise his genuine fear for his dessert. “No, we can have ice cream.” He stepped around Eskild and pulled out two cones from the freezer. When he handed one to Eskild, he spoke again.

“Even is very special. I love him. We love him.”

“Yes. I know.”

“I thought you were hurting him, even if he didn’t know. Or even if he did know, he might still let it happen. I don’t want anyone to hurt him.”

“I wouldn’t.” 

Eskild took his cone, somewhat satisfied with Isak’s promise. But then he went back to the freezer and put it away. Isak was confused, until he watched Eskild hover over the open freezer door, keeping his head bowed and hidden.

“Eskild?”

“I don’t want to lose him again.” He was crying. He was sobbing. His voice was shaking and he choked on “again.” Isak went to his side and pulled him upright by his arm.

“Eskild. You won’t lose him. Eskild, please, look at me.”

He looked so small there, hunched over in the kitchen, without the confidence of his all-black ensemble and a bar to shield him. The crying, of course, turned him into a child, his lips wobbling and his nose starting to run. It made Isak tear up to see another man looking so helpless, even though he wasn’t sure what exactly they were crying about. But he tried to soothe him. He tried to look into his eyes and tell him what he needed to hear.

“Even is here. He’ll stay here. You didn’t lose him. You won’t lose him.”

“Please don’t take him away.”

Isak gasped. “N-no. No, I won’t do that. I’m not trying to do that.” He wanted to squeeze Eskild, wrap him up into a physical assurance that no one was leaving, or taking. Instead he spun around and spotted the dishtowel hanging from the oven handle. He lunged for it, then put himself right in Eskild’s face. He wiped at Eskild’s nose, and Eskild let him.

“Thanks,” he sniffled from behind the towel.

“I’m not taking him anywhere. I might take him to my mom’s house, but that’s it. I’ll tell you if I do, so you know where he is.”

Eskild nodded.

Isak wondered if this was it. If hidden behind the detached care and joking attitude was just a very strong fear of Even disappearing from his life, whether Even was taken from him or if he let him go. It was a fear that Eskild kept to himself, until now, until it had turned into an outburst of rage at Isak and then poured out in its true form when it was just them in the kitchen.

If it was, then Isak understood. He would scream at anyone who dared take Even away from him, including Even himself. He would scream and cry and fight. He understood Eskild.

“I don’t want to lose him either. I love him too.”

Isak was still holding his ice cream, and it was probably quite melted so he put it back in the freezer. He walked over to his tote bag, which he’d dropped at the entrance to the kitchen. He picked it up and dug past his clothes to the bottom. Eskild kept wiping at his face.

“You know Even. I know Even. I know he loves you. It’s hard for that love to be the loudest thing in the room, but I know he tries.”

Isak pulled the spare set of his apartment keys out of the bag. He was going to give them to Even, but he knew what he had to do instead. “I will never take him from you. I cannot guarantee that he won’t try to run and hide though. When he did that before, you let me in. So, here.” Isak traded the dishtowel in Eskild’s hands for the keys.

“I have keys to your apartment. I know to go here first, because this is where he is safe and loved. He knows that. He’s staying. But he will also spend time with me, and there he will be safe and loved too.”

Eskild looked at the keys. He held them in one hand and gestured at Isak for the other. He needed the towel back, because he was crying again.

“I hope…I never have to use these.”

“I do too. But you have them.”

They were Isak’s keys and they were Isak’s promise.

After he had calmed down a bit, Eskild folded the towel and draped it gently back over the oven handle. He gave Isak a small nod. “I think…I’m just going to go to bed now. Give that whole ‘sleeping at night’ thing a try.”

Isak laughed. “I hear it’s great.”

Eskild smiled. As he walked past Isak he hung the spare keys on the same hook where Even’s had been. Isak gave him a minute, some space, and then walked out to the living room.

He froze when he noticed Even sitting on the couch. He was facing the TV, but he must’ve heard Isak walking and then stopping, because without turning around he said, “Come sit with me.”

Isak went to the couch feeling like he’d just been called to the principal’s office. But when he walked around and saw Even’s face, he didn’t look like his voiced had sounded. He looked relaxed and happy, not upset by anything he might’ve heard. He patted the couch cushion next to him.

Isak was suspicious. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know that Eskild is two hundred percent going to walk in on us fucking again, at your apartment.”

Isak knew what he’d said but he couldn’t remember the order he’d said it. He didn’t know if any personal revelations had followed the keys or come before them, and were possibly missed.

“I also heard the other stuff too. But it’s the keys thing that is really going to backfire for us.”

As quickly as Even had touched on it and moved away from it, Isak tensed up and relaxed. He finally sat down next to Even. He decided not to bring up the emotional statements again, if Even didn’t want to do it himself. Besides, it was the truth. There was nothing to argue or defend.

“We have a guard dog.”

Even lifted his arm to make room for Isak to comfortably lean into his side. In his other hand was the TV remote, which he used to turn on Netflix. “I’m not confident in her, or anybody’s, ability to stop Eskild from watching us have sex.”

“You make him sound so much worse than he actually is, you know.”

Even shrugged. Isak readjusted himself after the bumpy motion knocked him around. “I think that’s just what you do when you love someone. You know how good they are, so you always just have to knock them down a peg. Make sure they don’t get too high on themselves.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. And don’t get me started on you. I’m going to have to trash talk you for the rest of our lives.”

“Ah shit.”

“Yeah, you’re fucked.”

Isak smiled wide, and pressed his burning cheek into Even’s shoulder.


	34. Isak

Geir finally called Camilla and Isak into a meeting together two weeks later. He asked them to join him in the conference room, instead of his office, which served two purposes: it didn’t share walls with any other offices, giving them a hint of more privacy, and it was neutral ground. Isak thought these were both good signs, but when Camilla stopped by his office to pick him up on the way in, her face said something else.

“We’re not getting fired Camilla.”

“Of course we are. The conference room? That’s code for ‘I need space for another chair so our HR rep can be present and serve as a witness.’”

Isak grabbed his phone and stood up. He straightened his tie and ran a hand through his curls. “I think we’re about to head into negotiations. He wouldn’t spend this much time on something as simple as firing us; that should’ve happened as soon as I returned from Paris.”

“Or it’s taken him two weeks to write a fucking press release about it,” Camilla grumbled, not letting Isak’s opinion brighten her mood.

“Fine, if we’re getting fired, I’ll immediately take you to a bar and we’ll get shit-faced."

Camilla stuck out her hand and made him shake on it. Then she threw back her shoulders, lifted her chin, and led their march to the conference room.

* * *

They were completely silent as they left. Geir sent them to their offices with a light “Back to work, then!” but everyone knew that wasn’t going to happen. They left without a word in return, and Isak automatically followed Camilla down to her office. Kim tried to catch his attention as he walked past, but he ignored her. He shut Camilla’s door behind him. “So.”

“So.”

“We’re not getting shit-faced then?”

“Well we still can, but maybe we should do it a little closer to five o’clock? After we’ve spent the rest of the day ignoring our current jobs and reading our new contracts?”

Isak snapped and pointed at Camilla. “Always with the best ideas, you are. I think that’s why you’re going to be the perfect Associate Director.”

Camilla beamed. “Aww, you’re just saying that because you’re going to be one too.”

“Yes, but I also truly mean it, from the bottom of my Associate Director heart.”

They laughed, finally letting the excitement about their future bubble to the surface. It had been a very good meeting.

“Congratulations, Isak.”

“Congratulations, Camilla.” He gave her a deep bow, and then excused himself. She was already clicking into her email, where an attachment of her contract awaited her, before he turned away to the door.

Walking back around the cubicles to get to his own office, Kim popped her head up and gave Isak an exaggerated wave to stop him.

“Is there a fire, Kim?”

“No, just a VIP in your office.”

“My—I didn’t think I had any meetings on my calendar today, especially none I would bring downstairs.” He fished into his pockets looking for his phone.

“You don’t; he just walked in on his own.”

Isak rolled his eyes. He didn’t know who was in there but it was easy enough to think of a couple of people who would act like that. Their publicity manager, when he was in a mood, would certainly go around expecting people to refer to him as a VIP. And now that he was going to be tasked with spinning a personnel change into a cultural event, he probably was very moody.

He found his phone in his jacket pocket but left it there. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Kim dropped back down to her chair and Isak walked to his door. The VIP had closed it, which Isak never did when he wasn’t in there. As he opened it, he tried to cut off the manager in advance. “I’m afraid I don’t have much ti—“

“Don’t have what?” Even was sitting at his desk, and he popped his head out from behind the computer monitor.

“Oh you sneaky little bitch. I was about to be all stressed out….” He didn’t, couldn’t finish his sentence, not when Even was smiling at him like that. Isak shut the door behind him and walked around his desk to kiss him hello. When Even turned back to the computer, Isak stood at his shoulder and took a look at his screen. “What top secret emails are you reading now?”

“None. I’m looking for pictures of me.”

“Eh?”

Even shrugged. “You don’t have any pictures around, just art. Don’t people put pictures of their family on their desk?”

“Not unless they want people asking about them.”

“Ah, I’m still a secret then.”

Isak opened his mouth to correct Even but all that came out was the truth: “Technically, yes.” No one had outright asked him who Even was, or if he had a husband. They had either given up on finding out or didn’t know how to do it without sounding rude. Isak didn’t know how or if he wanted to reveal Even anyway, so the mystery remained for all of them.

“So…I shouldn’t have introduced myself as your husband when I came in?” Even looked up at Isak with some classic puppy dog eyes, a strong mix of innocence and guilt that left Isak speechless.

“You. Ah! What?” He stepped back, as if he could get a better look at Even’s confession from afar.

“That’s how they let me down here, because I told them I was meeting my husband.” Even stood up. The puppy dog eyes, at his regular height, looked different.

“Even!”

“I didn’t know you still hadn’t told people!”

All Isak could do was sputter his name again. “Even!”

“Baby, I’m sorry.” But there was a smile. He wasn’t sorry. He was laughing.

“Even.”

Even stepped closer and held out his arms, asking if he could wrap them around Isak. Isak allowed it, but did not break eye contact, still demanding an explanation.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Even kissed Isak’s unmoving lips. “I just know Ed, and we had a chat, and he let me go downstairs when I told him I was here to pick you up for lunch. And of course I know Kim.”

Isak shoved at Even’s shoulder but he didn’t budge, because he was too close and because Isak didn’t really mean it. He finally kissed him back. “Did you come here just to give me a heart attack?”

“No, I thought we could really do lunch. And also I wanted to show you some pictures.”

“I can’t really leave. I have to….” Isak waited for Even’s eyes to return to his. They were busy roaming over his face. Isak thought about Even kissing him wherever his eyes glanced and he smiled. Even did kiss his smile. And then they focused on the words.

“You can’t….”

“Geir just offered me a new contract. Camilla and me. That was the meeting I was in. I need to stay here and read the contract.”

It was Even’s turn to step back in shock. “Congratulations! Right? Congratulations?”

Isak laughed. “Yes. It’s good.”

Even gripped Isak’s waist and shook him. “Ach, you were so worried and now you got what you wanted!”

“I wasn’t worried!”

“You were worried.” Even brought one hand up to trace the line between Isak’s eyebrows.

Maybe he’d been worried. But he wasn’t anymore. Geir had outlined a really great plan for him and Camilla to essentially split his title and their roles. They would lose some budget in order to make up for the salary but they both could do well with that kind of challenge. Geir had run the timeline past the board as well, so rather than phasing out a senior curator they would be phasing in two associate directors and a more balanced power structure for the museum as a whole. Neither Isak nor Camilla thought they would be sacrificing anything in order to share their new status, so they had presented initial agreements, but they both requested time to review the fine print. Isak wanted to talk to his mother about it too.

“But yes, I will let you have your lunch time. We’ll celebrate tonight. Oh, but wait.” He let go of Isak to pat his pockets, and then realized his phone was next to the keyboard on the desk. “Look what I did this morning!” He presented a photo album to Isak.

Since it was Tuesday Even had stayed over at Isak’s apartment the night before and stayed in bed long after he’d left for work. The photo album was full of photos of Ophelia, most of her in bed with Even, but more importantly _in focus_. He scrolled through the photos, each one clearer than the next, of Ophelia lying still enough for Even to take picture after picture, capturing her handsome angles.

“How—?” The shock was back and the words had escaped again.

Ophelia was lounging on her side in the center of the duvet. She was rolled onto her back, her paws daintily hanging in the air. She looked sleepy, she looked alert, she let her tongue loll out in a goofy yet controlled smile. She was sitting on the couch as if they were made for dogs and not humans. She had fetched her rope toy and was waiting for Even to ask for it. She was mid-gallop down the hallway. It was a whole goddamn photoshoot and every picture was perfect.

“How, what did you _do_?”

“I just took pictures! She listened to me when I asked for things and waited for me to give her new commands.”

“What the hell! This isn’t fair!” Isak was frustrated that Even had accomplished something in one lazy morning that he’d never been able to do in all of the years that he’d lived with Ophelia. But then he was quickly distracted by a really gorgeous shot of Ophelia looking out the window. The light hit her face so well that you could see the dimensions of her eyes. “Oh this is a good one.”

“You should post it.”

“Put them all in the shared album, please.” Isak handed the phone back to Even. The longer he looked at the photos the more upset he was going to be at his own dog. “Shit, she’ll really do anything for you.”

Even gave him a little pout, seeing that Isak was legitimately upset. “Yeah, but I’ll do anything for _you_ , so that balances it out.”

“It’s not the same.”

Even pulled him into a proper hug this time. “I’m glad we’ve established the hierarchy of this family.”

Isak grumbled into Even’s shoulder but hugged him back. Even started a gentle rock, swaying them to an unheard beat. He whispered into Isak’s ear. “I’m so very proud of you and your new contract.” He kissed Isak’s hair and left his lips pressed against his head.

Isak settled into the feeling, of Even wrapped around him, pressed against him, and of having accomplished something Even could be proud of. It was less about his personal achievements and more about giving something to Even that he could embrace. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Oh you definitely could have.”

Isak pulled back so he could look Even in the eye. “Not like this. Maybe eventually, but not right now, not with this happiness.” He held Even’s gaze to make sure Even understood.

Even smiled. “Okay. I will take credit for it. As well as for the photo of Ophelia that you're going to post on Instagram.”

Isak laughed. They’d both accomplished something pretty incredible that morning.

* * *

They skipped lunch. Isak took his seat and opened up his contract. He forwarded it to Even. Even sat across from him and he read it on his phone. Isak took some vague notes on things that sounded strange to both of them, and it was reassuring to have that first read-through with someone else, with someone on his side. They talked about it casually once they were done. “I both have a better sense of what Geir’s actual job is now, and I also don’t, knowing that they had to change up a lot in order to fit the role for two people.”

“Have you seen Camilla’s contract?”

“No, but I’m sure we’ll do something similar to this, make sure the big things are covered. Geir said they matched almost entirely, with the only exceptions being for our personal tracks that would affect future benchmarks. Like, Camilla’s research and grant work has been accounted for, so she’ll be paid more for the better work she does in those sectors.”

“Ah. And what about you? Is there something in there that you get that she doesn’t?”

“I don’t think so, numbers-wise. In a way I’ve already gotten it, you know? I didn’t have to do the extra research and grant work that she did to reach this same title.”

Isak wasn’t about to stick his neck out for Camilla, but he would do it for equal treatment. The fact that the canon that he’d built his career on, that he perpetuated, consisted mostly of men was not lost on him.

Even cocked his head and observed Isak. “You’re so pretty and smart and…aware.” It was a weird compliment. They shared a funny look over it. “I don’t know. I mean you could just…go for whatever you want, but you make certain decisions that seem to work backward for you.”

“Oh honey, I’m no saint. I _do_ go for whatever I want. But I know the right way to do that. Most men don’t.” He thought of Hubert as he said it, but immediately banished him from his mind.

“And you still get what you want.”

Isak gestured at everything in front of him: his computer, with his new contract, his phone, with beautiful pictures of his dog, his office, with his Even. “I do.”

Even smirked. “Greedy bitch.” He pushed himself to standing and walked around Isak’s desk. Isak stood up too, to meet him. They’d been there for an hour, so it was probably time for him to go home. Isak gave him a kiss, one that he thought would be quick, a standard goodbye, but Even’s hands were at his neck, keeping him close.

“Oh?” he asked into Even’s open mouth. They kept kissing, breathy and wet, like that first time. Isak gripped Even’s waist. It was a little bit of a shock, because they hadn’t made out like this, here, since then, so Isak held on to make sure it would keep going.

Even paused to whisper: “Your desk is the right height.”

They both turned their heads to look at it, as if _the desk_ was the deciding factor to all of it. Maybe it was.

A few things flitted through Isak’s mind: the noise, the mess, the time. None of them hung around long enough to stop him though. “I need to make some space.” He shoved his computer and keyboard to one side, his list and pens to the other. His phone was close enough to the corner that it wouldn’t get in the way but he knocked the phone off the hook just in case.

Even was behind him, grabbing at his ass. “You ever do it here before?” Their voices were hushed and rushed.

“No.” He’d never brought hook-ups to the museum, nor found them in the building to begin with. And he had never wanted to, because a tiny thrill wasn’t worth the risk of his job. “You ever do it at your office?” Isak spun around and leaned against his newly cleared space. Even grabbed at his front.

“No. I never close my door, so—“

“Ah shit.” Isak squeezed past Even to check the door. It was closed but he hadn’t locked it. When he turned around he leaned back against it, watching Even from a distance for a moment. He was unbuckling his belt.

Even had talked about a lot of things during his first few intensive sessions with the psychiatrist. He had to remember things he didn’t want to remember, or couldn’t, and describe them in detail so they could define them for what they were. His promiscuity, fucking a stranger over their desk, or fucking Isak in the shower without a condom, those were defined and then separated. Those were moments when he didn’t have control or want control, and they were things he didn’t want to remember. But he remembered them for his psychiatrist, and then he talked to Isak about them again that same night.

Because he had talked, to his psychiatrist and to Isak, and because he had apologized and promised, they both knew what this was. Even was going to fuck Isak over his desk without a condom and it was not going to be a mistake. He had Isak’s consent. He had his own consent. They were both unbuckling their belts and it seemed like the loudest sound in the world.

“You have to be quiet. We’re in a museum.”

Even’s face filled with skepticism. “ _You_ have to be quiet.” He didn’t take off his pants, just opened up the fly wide enough to pull out his dick. Isak’s knees went weak at the sight, and then he noticed.

“No underwear?”

“Okay, so I came here to do a few things: lunch, and show you pictures of your dog, and fuck you.” One hand ticked off each item on his agenda. The other stroked his dick.

“While I appreciate how much you planned I have a feeling you forgot lube.”

Even’s face went slack. Isak walked back to the desk and gave Even’s cheek a light pat. “We’ll get some of those packets. I used to always carry one in my wallet, but stopped when it leaked everywhere on a flight.”

“Are…are we—“

“Of course not. I’m sure I have something else.” Isak reassured Even before he put his dick back in his pants. That would’ve been more of a crime than forgetting lube. Besides, yes, he had something. In the small drawer that held his comb and toothbrush he had a travel size bottle of body lotion, a savior from those dry winter commutes. And dry lunchtime fucks. He handed Even the bottle and finished removing his pants. He took off one shoe to free his legs and let everything else dangle from his left ankle. For some reason, Even was just standing there, dick hanging out, reading the tiny print on the bottle.

“Is this safe?”

“It’s not going to be the smoothest ride, but it’s better than spit and it’s not going to poison me or anything. Just wash your dick when you get home.” Isak hopped up onto his desk and then reached forward. Even shuddered when Isak’s hand wrapped around his tool and tugged. The sensation was enough to convince Even to get on with it and just use what they had. He opened the cap and squirted a good amount on his fingers. Isak scooched his butt forward until he was at the edge, and leaned back on his elbows.

“Up.”

His legs went up. The lotion was cold, but Even leaned over him and kissed him as a distraction. While the prep felt a bit clinical, it had to be to ensure that they wouldn’t make too much noise. This was going to be a tidy fuck.

Even’s cock rested on Isak’s while he fingered Isak’s hole, stretching and lubing the usual amount that would make sure he fit. They kissed and humped and held on to each other’s shirts until finally Isak had to gasp, “Inside.” Even pulled out his fingers and wiped them on Isak’s shirt. “Yeah, yeah I have another. Fuck me.” Isak’s voice was low but urgent. Even guided himself into Isak’s ass.

“Ohhhhh.”

“Yes, fuck, Even.” Isak propped himself up again. He hooked his legs around Even’s waist. He watched Even’s face as the pleasure they both felt flashed across it in waves. Even moved slow and steady.

There was something about the fact that they were supposed to be quiet, that made them both more verbal. They encouraged each other with affirmations and directions, stating the obvious because it just sounded sexier in forced whispers between controlled breaths. “Fuck you’re so tight.”

“Yeah? You like that ass? Fuck it with your giant cock. Give me all of it.”

Even pulled on Isak’s shoulder, a familiar grip that would inch up to his neck as he slowly pounded away. His other hand took Isak’s dick and jerked it furiously. “Gonna make you come. You can’t scream, but you’re gonna fucking shoot all over your shirt and your ass is gonna milk my cock—“

“Oh fuck yes, make me come.” Isak was shaking, from Even’s thrusts and his own oncoming orgasm. He wanted to squeeze Even’s cock but could barely control his body. His legs only stayed up because his ankles were hooked together.

“I’m gonna make you come and then I’m gonna shoot my load deep inside. You’re gonna get my cum.”

“Yes, give it to me.”

“Sit here at your desk, typing right over your ass print, clenching to keep my cum from leaking out of your little hole.”

Isak gasped, Isak laughed, he shuddered at the wild mix of emotions. God, no one was ever as funny and sexy as Even was in a singular breath. He had to let his head fall back, he had to stop looking at him, so he wouldn’t be overcome with giggles, or whatever the fuck it was that coursed through his body as if his bloodstream was carbonated. Though Even knew how incontrollable laughter made him squeeze anyway so maybe that was the point. But jesus none of it mattered, not when that gorgeous cock was thrusting in and out at the perfect angle, working with Even’s hand to build an incredibly satisfying orgasm.

He almost didn’t want to come, because he didn’t want it to end. And at home Even would know just how to delay it so it wouldn’t have to. But they couldn’t stay on his desk forever. Even kept stroking, kept going, and Isak’s orgasm surged up from his balls.

“Shoot, baby. I want to see your cum.”

Isak’s moan built up behind his closed lips, escaping through his nose, his throat, his chest. Even squeezed his cock as it released hot cum in heavy spurts onto his shirt and tie. He squeezed Isak’s neck, making him lightheaded to the point where he was lost. He gave up. His eyes closed and his mouth popped open and the whole museum could listen to what it sounded like when Even had complete control over their bodies.

They gave it to each other. They gave in to each other.

Even let himself fall forward, pressing into Isak’s chest until they were flat on the desk. He unloaded into Isak’s ass and grunted into his shoulder. “Isak Isak Isak Isak Is….”

At home he would fuck Isak like that but he would keep going until Isak fell asleep. Then, when his body had finally relaxed, Even would slip out. They’d make a mess on the towel underneath them but they would just roll away to avoid the wetness. Here, on the hard desk, Isak was satisfied and exhausted but still vaguely aware of his surroundings. Even kept saying his name, drawing him back to full consciousness, and Isak shoved his heavy lover off of him. Or at least upright enough so Isak could sit up. Even was still buried in his ass, and Isak kept him there. “Kiss me you fucking stud.”

Even did. Their mouths hung open, sucking but mostly hovering, as their lungs caught up and hearts slowed down. Isak loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Even shoved it off of his shoulders, then tugged it away. He bunched it up and held it under Isak’s ass to catch whatever he couldn’t hold onto when Even pulled out. Their eyes went wide at the last intense sensation. Isak bit his lip and then let out one more gasp.

“Shit, it’s like I fucked you twice.”

Isak knew his asshole was pulsing, leaking cum and lotion into a white mess. He felt Even wiping it up, which almost made it worse. When Even stepped back to wipe off his own dick, Isak made an attempt to stand. Even had to catch him, and they both laughed so hard. He let himself stay in Even’s arms as they recovered from that as well, until Isak’s nudity got to him. He was literally down to just his tie, standing in a puddle of his pants, in his office. He’d never been this naked even in the privacy of the bathroom. Meanwhile Even had zipped himself back up and looked completely presentable in seconds. If you had to guess which one of them had recently licked a painting, you’d probably be wrong.

He pulled off his tie. Even was checking his own shirt for any transferred cum, but he was clear. Isak handed him the tie to stuff into a tote bag with the soiled shirt. “Do you want to be an absolute angel and do a dry cleaners run? I have another—“

“The one by the closet?”

“Yes. Please.”

Isak pulled up his pants and sorted out his bottom half. He pulled a clean shirt from his desk drawer. “Remind me to replace this and bring in an extra tie.”

“Okay.” Even went to the other side of the desk and collapsed into the chair. He watched Isak get dressed. Isak combed his hair, relying on Even’s face as a reflection. Since he didn’t look concerned, Isak figured he passed muster. Then he rearranged his desk and hung up his phone.

“Back to normal?” He looked around for any remaining evidence of their romp.

Even tipped his head. “Sit down.”

“Why?”

“If you wince when you do it you might expose yourself.”

Isak rolled his eyes. When he sat down, though, he had to put extra effort into controlling his face. “If anyone asks I’ll just say I took up yoga, but did it wrong.”

“We actually should do yoga, for real. It’s not too late for your resolution.”

“I’ll tell Camilla. She’ll be thrilled. Oh, and that reminds me, I’m probably going to get drinks with her after work. Do you want to join? We can celebrate together.”

Even shook his head. “I’ll wait until you’ve signed. Don’t want to jinx anything. And I can handle Ophelia while you stay out.”

“Thank you. But if you were going to jinx something, I’m pretty sure the whole office fuck would’ve done it already.”

“Well then I won’t press my luck.” Even stood and leaned over the desk. This time he kissed Isak goodbye for real, short and final. “See you at home.”

Isak had forgotten that an entire world existed beyond his office, beyond Even, until Even opened his door to leave. Then the general hubbub of the museum flowed into their private space. Then he remembered his private space was actually part of the museum. He blushed while Even handled his walk of shame with absolutely none of it. He heard him say goodbye to Kim. He wished he could run after him, ignoring the world for a little while longer. But then he glanced at his computer and saw an email from Camilla asking if four o’clock was too early to get shit-faced.

_How about three?_

* * *

Even was already in his pajamas when Isak got home. He was lounging on the couch, watching TV, but he paused it when he noticed Isak in the doorway. “Did you eat?”

“We did.” Drinks had turned into dinner, which had turned into an actual lengthy conversation about yoga. It was late, and Isak was tired after a long day of unusual excitement. “Where’s Ophelia?”

“Sleeping in her bed. I wore her out.”

“That makes two of us.” Isak shrugged off his suit coat and started unbuttoning his shirt as he walked to the couch. Even dropped one of his legs to the floor to indicate that Isak was welcome to collapse between them. He did. He shifted back until he was leaning on Even’s chest. “What are you watching?”

“No idea. Something started autoplaying on the menu so I clicked on it to shut it up.”

“Excellent choice.”

They were quiet while they gave the show a couple of minutes of focus, but then they gave up. Isak reached back to blindly pat Even’s head. “Thank you for visiting today.” Even caught his hand and kissed his palm.

“That was much more exciting than what I used to do.”

Isak laughed. “I don’t think we should make it a regular thing though.”

“Did you get in trouble?”

“No. Or at least, not today. Might get a form letter in the mail in two weeks though.”

Even’s visit had distracted him for the rest of the afternoon, but it also served as a reminder to undo Noora’s suspension.

“Did you post a photo yet?”

“No, but I narrowed it down to which one I wanted. Still thinking on a good caption since it’s kind of a big announcement.”

“Surprise! I’ve had a dog this whole time.”

“Surprise! She doesn’t listen to me.”

“Surprise! She only listens to my husband.”

Isak howled. “Oh god every one of my followers would shit their pants if I posted that. Mamma would call 112.”

“Yeah, but it would be a very efficient announcement.”

“Ugh.” Isak rolled to his side. He wanted to look at Even but he also wanted to lie on him. He shifted around and pulled at Even’s body until they’d sunk further down into the couch, horizontal. “Does it bother you that I’m not telling people?”

Even snorted. “No, because it’s not true. I get that it’s just…a little white lie. And it’s fun to play along. If anything it feels like it’s bothering _you_.”

Isak tucked his face into Even’s armpit. He gave another grunt, to acknowledge Even’s statement, but to also avoid answering it. He was still struggling with his understanding of the concept, of what calling Even his husband meant, and if he was lying to anyone else besides himself.

Isak didn’t want to get married. He knew that. He never did, and the thought of an actual wedding or a ring or a certificate was still unappealing to him. But he did want to know what it was supposed to be like. He wanted to know if he was feeling the right way. He wanted to be able to define it just so he could point to it and say, “This is why I’m happy.” As long as he knew that he wouldn’t need the ring or certificate to define it for him. Just _wanting_ to spend the rest of his life with Even would be enough.

Is that what he wanted? Is that why he lied—or didn’t lie—to Hubert? Did he tell him he was married because he was already happy? He had rejected Hubert’s offer because it was no better than what he already had.

He lifted his head. He poked Even in the chest. Even was watching him silently, like he usually did. But then he spoke. “Do you want to know what bothers me?”

Isak pushed himself upright, glad for the distraction, or at least a different problem to solve. “Yes.”

“In addition to the previously stated lack of pictures of me in your office, you had a poster on your wall that just said ‘Rule of Seven.’ At first I thought it was like, the Golden Rule. But then I realized I was thinking of the Golden Ratio, or the Vitruvian Man. There are a whole bunch of other rules too, that I tried to work through, but then you came in and I stopped thinking.”

Isak smiled. He was familiar with that feeling. “It’s a marketing thing. This rule where you have to expose someone to something at least seven times before they get it. Before they buy it. You need to see an ad seven times before you’re sold on whatever the product is.”

“That seems like a kind of weird thing for you to have in your office.”

“Yeah I guess. I’m not in advertising or marketing or like, overt selling of anything. But it’s a good reminder of how humans respond to things, especially unconsciously. Helps me shape what I’m trying to target and present with my exhibits, what I’m trying to get the museum to tell the people who walk through it. What I’m trying to get the museum to tell to the people who _haven't_ walked through it.” Isak tugged on Even’s body again to get himself sitting up in a more comfortable position. He ended up straddling Even’s hips. Even’s hands rested on Isak’s thighs, like they usually did.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever watched an ad seven times.”

“It’s not just ads. It’s…everything. Like, for a video game: you see an ad once, attached to a Youtube video. You see an image of a character out of context, somewhere else, maybe as a joke. You google it to confirm what it’s from. You scroll past a tweet where someone mentions it. You notice a kid playing it on their Switch while waiting at the doctor’s. A bus drives by with a picture of that character again. A friend asks if you’ve ever heard of the game. You see the game for sale in a store.” Isak ticked off the impressions on his fingers until he got to seven.

“And then I buy it.”

“Maybe. But you’re definitely aware of it now, and you are in the position to become one of the seven impressions that will influence someone else’s purchase.”

“It sounds so…methodical.”

“It is. It’s not very romantic. But seeing that poster is a good grounding after I’ve been upstairs for too long. Like, great, I got the art, but I also have to get the people.”

“Yeah, you definitely need some different pictures in your office.”

Isak slapped Even’s chest lightly. “That is the _least_ of my problems right now. You know what I picture whenever I’m in my office?” He ground his ass into Even’s crotch and felt him instantly respond through his thin pajama bottoms. “My office used to be all business, but then you showed up, and now it’s just a fucking fantasy.”

“Ooooof.”

“I dragged Camilla out of there early just so I could get rid of my boner.”

“How heterosexual of you.”

Isak slapped his chest again. “You know what I mean.”

Even’s grip tightened on Isak’s thighs, to keep him going rather than to still him, and then his hands slid across to his belt, where Isak’s boner was making a comeback.

Isak leaned forward and lowered his voice. He thought about what he should say to encourage Even and what he wanted to say to encourage Even and made the wrong choice. “I’m probably still wet with your load.”

Or the right one. Even raised his hips and bit his lip. His hands fumbled as he tried to move faster. They didn’t have to be quiet here, but they didn’t say anything more. They just tried to strip each other down as quickly as possible.

“What…do you—“

“Ride. Gonna ride you.” Isak had to dismount to get rid of his pants. Even flopped about on the couch to shove his out of the way, but then resumed his position. His cock was hard and red, his foreskin pulled back, and Isak gave himself a moment to admire it before he shoved it up his ass. He ran a light hand from the base to the tip, and swiped up the drop of pre-cum. “Sometimes I pity all of the other people who will never get to play with this.”

“Really?”

“No.” Isak straddled him. He collected a glob of spit and rubbed it against his hole. He _was_ still wet from their desk fuck but a little more wouldn’t hurt. He lined up Even’s cock and slid down onto it, groaning at the satisfaction of being filled again.

He used to be horny. He used to invite men over just so he could have a dick inside of him within the hour. But it was never like this. He never craved such a particular experience, the way he felt Even’s cock that deep, the way their thighs slipped against each other’s with sweat, the way he chewed on Even’s skin and knew it was the right kind of pain. He wasn’t horny anymore, those vague desires no longer existed. Now he knew exactly what he wanted, and, like always, he knew how to get it.

Isak rose up and squeezed. He held Even’s cock right at his entrance. He smiled, watching Even’s chest shudder with a breath and his hands unsure of where to land. He rode the tip of his dick until he had Even gasping, and then he plunged back down.

“Oh jesus baby.” Even’s hands finally found purchase on Isak’s hips. They held him there, but didn’t stop him from swirling and squeezing. “Fuck.”

Isak focused on making Even come. Usually it was the other way around, Even fucking one orgasm, if not more, out of Isak first. It was what Isak demanded and what Even wanted to give him in equal parts. But now he was mixing it up. He was on top, in control, and he wanted Even to shoot another load deep inside before he even thought about his own dick.

Isak lowered his chest slowly, keeping his weight on his arms. Even breathed heavily against his neck. He kissed Even’s hair and licked at the sweat beading along his forehead. He kept up a steady stroke with his ass, squeezing up and plunging down. He had Even on the edge and he listened for a hitch before he backed off.

“Isak,” he whined. “Isak.”

“You gonna come?”

“Y-yes. Please.”

“Come inside me. Shoot your hot load. Come on baby.”

Even gripped Isak’s cheeks and spread them wide. Isak felt Even’s cock swell and pulse. He stopped squeezing, stopped moving, so he could feel every spurt. “Ohhhhh yes.”

Then he moved again, then he squeezed again, until Even was milked dry. Even’s breathing was heavy and loud and it filled the apartment, drowning out their heartbeats.

* * *

Isak didn’t stay on the couch for long. He freed his legs and ran to the bathroom before the cum leaked out. He cleaned himself up and took a damp washcloth back to Even. Even’s knees were splayed out, his beautiful bits on display, but his arms were crossed over his face and his chest was still heaving. He shivered and gasped when the washcloth landed on his crotch. “Ahhh nooo.” He was still sensitive. Isak tried to distract him with scheduling talk.

“What are you thinking for the rest of the week?”

“Here till—ah!—Thursday morning. I’m leaving work early that day to see Kristina, then I’ll stay home until…Saturday.”

It was becoming a familiar pattern. He stayed at Isak’s when he only needed to be near the office, and then he stayed at home when that was a more convenient location. Or when he missed his roommates. They would meet for dinner at Eskild’s bar to spend time with him as well. It was a nice routine that Isak enjoyed, because he loved having Even in his bed but he also didn’t mind missing him, and waiting for him to return. He also liked knowing that Even would.

Isak returned to the bathroom to rinse out the washcloth and hang it up. When he went back to the living room, Even was up and collecting their clothes. They didn’t bother putting anything back on, but they tidied up before heading to the bedroom. 

Ophelia’s tail thumped slowly when Isak walked in. “Hi Ophes.” He bent down over her bed and scratched her ears for a bit. Even folded his pajamas and sorted Isak’s clothes into the hamper. Then they climbed into bed in sync.

“Alarm?”

“Set.”

They’d walk Ophelia together in the morning. They’d eat bowls of cereal standing in the kitchen. They’d shower and brush their teeth and kiss before going to work. Isak looked forward to it. Even looked forward to it.

The room was dark. Even’s phone flashed when he plugged it in on the bedside table. Isak moved to the middle of the bed and waited for Even to roll on top of him. He did, and Isak sighed at the comfort of the weight. But then he felt Even’s hands sliding down his sides, and Even’s hips moving away so he could fondle Isak’s penis. Isak sighed again. “You’re going to make a mess.”

“I’ll swallow.”

For all of their exhaustion, Even slipped further under the blanket with amazing speed. Isak spread his legs to make room for Even’s shoulders, and he threw his arms above his head. He let out a long groan when Even took him in his mouth.

Isak thought about how much he loved Even, with his eyes closed against the darkness and his back arching in pleasure. It wasn’t solely because his dick was in his mouth, though that helped. The blowjob was more of a reminder, to use his own mouth, to say things out loud, and to ask for what he wanted. 

“I love you.” Will you please love me too?

He felt a hum, then heard a slurp. It was muffled by the blanket, but he heard the answer. “I love you, too.” I will love you too. Even’s thumb pressed on Isak’s taint in punctuation.

They came. They loved. They slept.


	35. Even

Even hadn’t worn his tuxedo since the New Year’s Eve party. He smiled when he pulled it out of the back of his closet, remembering Isak’s drunk kisses from that night. Since then he’d only seen Isak get that drunk two other times: for his own birthday party at Eskild’s bar and when they surprised Marianne with dinner for her birthday. They’d snuck up to her house while she was at work and started cooking, and then drank so much during dinner that they had to stay overnight. Isak was very grumpy the next day but he’d been a delight the entire evening.

He wasn’t going to get drunk tonight. It was a work event, so they both had to be on their best behavior. He gave his tuxedo a light shake on the hanger, then hooked it on the back of his door. A knock came from the other side shortly after. “Yes?”

Eskild opened the door and leaned into Even’s room. “Do you want dinner? Oliver is making waffles.”

“Waffles?”

“We are craving something sweet.”

“Ah. Thank you, but no. I have to get ready to go to Isak’s…thing.” He forgot what it was. It wasn’t a benefit. “Reception. Isak’s reception.”

“That’s tonight? It’s Wednesday.”

Even shrugged.

“Okay. Do you want us to make extras for when you come home?”

“You would do that?”

“Oliver would.”

Even smiled and tilted his head. That was the Eskild he knew. “If you make extras we will definitely eat them, thank you.”

Eskild nodded and moved to leave, but leaned in again immediately. “What are you wearing?”

“My tuxedo.”

“Oh, it’s fancy!”

“Yes. Sort of like the benefit last year but smaller.”

Eskild gave him a series of small claps. “When you are ready we will take your picture.”

“Okay.”

Even got dressed. He could hear Eskild and Oliver making a mess in the kitchen, or Eskild making a mess and Oliver chasing him about it. He liked when Oliver was visiting, though it wasn’t as often as Isak’s appearances. They seemed to have a much looser relationship than what Isak and Even had become, both in time spent together and the general exclusivity of it all. Eskild had other guests. Oliver visited other men. They were very cute and domestic when they were together though.

Isak was concerned for their sexual health, and subtly kept track of the condoms in the bathroom. When they didn’t have their own relationship to talk about, Isak plotted ways to casually ask Eskild about getting tested. Even didn’t encourage him or discourage him, since he knew Isak would always be too scared to actually do it. He simply appreciated the concern, on Eskild’s behalf.

His pants, when he pulled them on, seemed a little tight. Even hadn’t noticed any weight gain, but Kristina had warned him about it. Perhaps because his tuxedo was tailored, it was only noticeable against the precise measurements. His usual wardrobe hid those fluctuations easily. He selected a pair of black socks with pink toes and heels, then he buttoned, zipped, tucked, and straightened everything, and managed to tie his bowtie properly on the first try. He presented himself for approval thirty minutes later.

Eskild put down his waffle and clapped again.

“Fancy,” Oliver appraised.

“He’s going to the museum.”

“And we weren’t invited?”

“It’s a private thing. I’m just Isak’s plus-one.”

“Always a plus-one, never a bride.” Eskild stood and wiped his hands. He approached Even for adjustments, starting with his hair and working down.

“Don’t overwork him, he’s fine.” Oliver continued eating. “You’ve always felt so effortless, Even.”

He had to laugh. “If only you knew how many million thoughts went into my every move.”

“Well I’ve never heard them.” Oliver stood as well, and picked up Eskild’s phone. “Let’s go to the living room for a better backdrop.”

Oliver directed the photoshoot, cutting Eskild’s edits down. Eskild took Noora’s place in the prom pose, and Oliver managed to get some nice candid ones while they laughed about slipping another condom into his pocket.

“To be honest, I think he’ll be more excited about the waffles than another museum quickie.”

“Is that a regular thing for you?”

“Waffles?” Even couldn’t resist. Oliver rolled his eyes. “Nah, not really. Blowjobs are faster and less obvious.”

Isak _did_ have lube in his drawer now though, just in case.

After they transferred the best photos to Even’s phone, he left the apartment. It was still warm enough out to not bother with another jacket, so he was exposed in his elegant attire for a Wednesday evening bus ride. He tried to pay it no mind, whether the strange stares existed or not, focusing on crafting his Instagram post instead. He chose the photo that most resembled the one he’d posted for the benefit, leaning into Eskild’s shoulder, and captioned it with _hot date part two_.

Isak texted him mere seconds after posting, clearly a response to the notification. _You stole my caption_

_We’ll think of a better one._

He took the front steps to the museum two at a time and entered through the one large wooden door that was propped open. Ed greeted him, balancing out the very casual handshake and half-hug with a fancy suit of his own. “Maaaaaaate. Here for the party?”

“Just point me to the bar, man.”

Ed chuckled. He ticked Even’s name off on his iPad and gestured to the main staircase. “You already know, bruv.”

He did. Isak had shown him the layouts he’d been going over for the past couple of months, the first three rooms of the gallery that were rearranged on Monday for yesterday’s launch. When he’d looked at the pages nothing was particularly revealing; it looked like the normal floor plan of the gallery. But there were notes criss-crossing the page that made more sense when paired with everything floating in Isak’s brain. Even left that information alone. All he needed to know was where he was supposed to be, and since he was on time, he took the grand staircase slowly.

Even was surprised, when he entered the gallery, to see that nothing much had changed. He could tell that the paintings on the wall were different, but barely even those stood out. There weren’t even the interior walls from Isak’s exhibit back in the winter. He had a moment of doubt, that he was in the wrong room, but there were also a few other people milling about in dresses and tuxedos. This had to be it.

Even stepped up to the first painting. He wondered, if he looked at it long enough, if he could figure out the difference between it and a very similar painting of a sleepy village with a light dusting of snow he’d looked at last week. He didn’t have much success, despite a thorough ten minutes with it. He moved on to the next painting.

As he stepped away, he snorted, thinking to himself that maybe he would need to see six more paintings before he understood. Or come back six more times. He didn’t think he usually needed that much repetition before an exhibit clicked for him, but Isak was all about challenges.

The next painting he had actually seen before, and remembered. It was part of the museum’s permanent collection. He’d never sketched it, but he’d walked past it often enough that it stuck. “Probably at least seven times,” he muttered under his breath. He kept going.

Even followed the slow flow of people around the first room. They were chatting at a higher volume than he was used to, but it _was_ a party. Everyone had a drink in their hand, and they would pause in front of each painting, but most of the time they would just talk to each other. Even felt the strong urge to bypass the unspoken queue to find Isak, but he also didn’t want to interrupt whatever was keeping him away. He knew Isak would’ve been looking for him as well, if he could.

Someone else found Even first. There was a voice over his right shoulder. “It’s all very basic, isn’t it?” Even turned to find a rather handsome older gentleman offering him a smirk and a flute of champagne. 

“The uh…the art?” He thumbed at the painting he’d just been looking at.

“Well not this piece in particular, but the whole thing. This one is mine.”

“Ah. You must be—“

“Hubert.” Hubert gestured with the flute again, which Even had to take in order to then be able to shake Hubert’s hand. They managed the exchange.

“Thank you.”

“And you are?”

“Even.”

“Lovely to meet you, Even. New to the scene? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“I was just saying the same thing to this painting.”

Hubert chuckled. Even did his best to evade Hubert’s questions, until he had a better sense of what Hubert was doing. After all this time Isak still occasionally grumbled about the Frenchman, so Even wanted a lay of the land first. Luckily, Hubert was distracted by his own contributions.

“Yes, there are three of my oils in each room, clearly elemental to the exhibit, thought I fear they’re drowning a bit in this….”

Even did not supply an insult, but let Hubert’s hand wave dismiss Isak’s work anyway. “ _Your_ …”

“Yes, on loan from the Petit Palais.”

Even nodded. He was not impressed, nor did he want to pretend to be, which would’ve been the polite, expected reaction. If this man had made Isak jump through hoops, Even could do the same to him.

“I do enjoy sharing our French art with the world, though I always hope it gets showcased with a little more glamour. Isak seems to have splurged on some shiny labels but that is the extent of his efforts. I’d be upset if I weren’t already disappointed by other things.”

“Perhaps we’re not seeing the full picture? I haven’t been to the other rooms yet.”

Another wave of the hand. “It’s the same. You just go from the fifties to the thirties with a little disco thrown in. I should be drinking coffee instead of champagne.” Hubert tipped his head back, downing half of his flute in one go. Even held his tongue. “But anyway, I suppose the silver lining is that you can be invited to these kinds of things and see that it would take very little work to drastically improve your own exhibit.” Hubert held his champagne to the side and took a step back in order to gaze at Even. It was a long, uncomfortable look, traveling from his face to his feet and back up again. “I know we’ve only just met but I feel like I have some beautiful nudes that you could do wonders with. Which gallery are you with again?”

“I didn’t—“

“Hubert, Even, I see you’ve met.”

Hubert jumped slightly at Isak’s sudden appearance between them. Even did not, because he had felt Isak’s hand on his lower back an instant before he announced himself. His whole body relaxed into it.

“Ah, yes, we were just talking about Even’s gallery.”

“Gallery?” Isak looked at Even. Even saw the absolute mirth dancing in his eyes and the restraint twitching at the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t know my husband had a gallery.”

Even wished he could see Hubert’s reaction just then, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Isak. “I don’t. But Hubert offered me some lovely nudes should I ever open one.” They let their smiles burst free. Isak’s arm extended around Even’s waist, and he pulled him into his side. Even’s arm crossed Isak’s back to mirror it. Hubert choked on air.

“Excuse me, I didn’t realize who exactly I was talking to. You’re—“

“Isak’s husband, yes.”

“Ah. Right. He’s…mentioned…you.”

“Only good things, I hope.”

Hubert, never one to hold back, snorted.

“Hubert.” Isak gave him a gentle warning.

“You’ve simply caught me in a moment of jealousy.” Hubert waved this off as well. “You’re both much too beautiful and now that I know you’re together it’s thrown the universe off balance. I’m afraid I have to step away before I lose my footing.” Hubert threw back the last of his champagne and turned on his heel.

Even leaned into Isak’s shoulder as Hubert walked away. “I think I just witnessed your kiss of death.”

“Maybe.” Isak dropped his head to whisper. “Is he looking at us?”

Even managed to watch Hubert without betraying their surveillance. He had moved to talk to someone else near the entrance to the second room, but positioned himself so Isak and Even were still in his line of sight. “Yes.”

Isak reached a hand up and angled Even’s face to meet his own. “Then this…is my kiss of death.” He smiled into an actual kiss, and Even felt Isak’s teeth on his lips before he could react properly. But then they opened their mouths slightly, appropriately, and made out in front a Frenchman and his fine art.

* * *

Isak hung out with Even for a little bit. They walked to the bar to trade the champagne for something Even actually wanted to drink (Fanta) and then stood in front of a random painting to chat while pretending to be admiring the brush strokes or whatever.

“I’m gaining weight.”

Isak looked at Even, doing that same top-to-bottom-and-back observation that Hubert had done, though it didn’t make Even uncomfortable. “Did you weigh yourself?”

“No, my tuxedo is tight.”

“I hadn’t noticed, and you sleep on me every night.”

“I didn’t notice either until I put it on.”

“Does it bother you? Kristina said the new medications might do that.”

Even shrugged. He’d been too distracted by paying attention to how his mind felt on the new regime that he wasn’t thinking about his body. Though he never really gave it much thought to begin with.

“You were pretty skinny when we first met. But you still look like…you. So I don’t think you should worry.”

Even shrugged again. “I don’t know if I was worrying, it was just the only other new thing that’s happened since I saw you this morning. Oh, and Oliver made extra waffles that we can have when we go home.”

Isak’s face lit up, possibly even more than it had during Hubert’s takedown. “And we just bought that tub of Nugatti! Oh let’s go home now, please.”

They laughed at the fact that Isak was being completely earnest in his request. This attracted a woman to Even’s side, to see what was so funny. When Isak recognized her and greeted her warmly, Even stepped back to let him do his job.

For the next couple of hours Even did a bit of hovering. He walked through the exhibit on his own, then circled back to Isak, and he dipped in and out of Isak’s introductions and conversations as needed. He didn’t mind his inconsistent involvement in Isak’s work, and it was easier to be the charming husband when he could fade into the background every once in a while, staring at art but not having to think about it.

When he got bored, and he didn’t have a sketchpad and pencil to occupy himself like usual, he stepped away to the bathroom and then hung out downstairs with Ed for a bit. Ed no longer had to check anyone in, but he was still functioning as some sort of coatroom manager/bathroom attendant/security guard. Ed showed him some of the games he would play on his phone, and Even showed him a cheat for one of the games that his own company had built. Thus cemented their friendship forever.

Eventually he got a text from Isak. _Did you leave?_

_I’m downstairs._

_Come up, I’m almost done._

“You’ve been called?” Ed was looking at his own phone.

“Yup.”

“And I’ve been released.”

“Nice.” They did another handshake-half-hug and said goodnight. Ed went downstairs with his iPad and Even went up.

The first room was empty. The second just had the bartender and a couple of moving men. He was loading his alcohol onto a cart and the moving men were breaking down the actual bar. Isak was in the third room, in the far corner, finishing a drink with Geir. Even walked up to him slowly, waiting for Isak to notice, not wanting to interrupt but also wanting to see him raise his head and turn, like they do in the movies. He wanted his eyes to lock on and his smile to bloom. He wanted the slow motion and the music. He wanted the romantic reunion, even though they’d barely been apart.

Isak did. He looked up and smiled and walked to meet Even where he’d stopped short. “Hey.” He leaned in to kiss Even on the cheek and loosely link their fingers together. “Where were you hiding?”

“I was downstairs with Ed playing games on his phone.”

Isak laughed. “Not a fan of impressionism, huh?”

Even gave him half of a smile. “I don’t know. It’s fine. I just…I don’t think I ‘got’ it.”

“What?!”

Geir stepped up to them, to interrupt. “Isak, I’m heading out. You’ll handle this?”

“Ah, yes. Just waiting for the bar to move out. Everything else is set for 11 o’clock.”

“Great, thank you. It was a nice evening, and it all looks lovely. Congratulations.”

Isak untangled his hand to accept Geir’s shake. Geir offered his hand to Even next.

“And Even, it was wonderful to finally meet you. I hope you enjoyed all of your husband’s hard work.”

Isak laughed again. “He was just telling me that it’s actually not working for him, but that’s okay. I’ll give him a private tour.”

Geir checked his watch. “Well, you have about thirty minutes before the lights go down, so I’ll leave you to it. Good evening, gentlemen.”

“Goodnight, Geir.”

The taps of Geir’s fancy shoes faded as he walked away.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of him.”

“No, you didn’t.” Isak gave Even a soft smile. “It’s been a bit of a…struggle this whole evening. I think almost everybody didn’t ‘get’ it.”

“Did Geir get it? He said it was lovely.”

“Yes. Maybe ‘struggle’ was the wrong word. It’s an exhibit, a collection of art with an unifying and educational theme. It makes sense.” Isak started walking backward, toward the entrance. Even followed. Isak turned when he got closer to the wall, and bent down to leave his glass on the floor.

“We have a cleaning service coming in the morning before we open. They’ll take care of it.” He excused his rude behavior, and explained the remaining glasses and cocktail napkins that were scattered about the rooms. 

The bar was already gone from the second room when they walked through, but Isak kept going, leading him all the way to the start. Even furrowed his brow, faced with the same painting that puzzled him in the first place.

Isak sighed. “What did Hubert say?”

“Huh?”

“He jumped on you pretty early. I have a feeling he wasn’t really helping your interpretation of the whole thing.”

“Um….” Even wanted to answer Isak’s question, but he didn’t want to insult him, even if he was just the messenger.

“It must’ve been scathing if he didn’t know that you were already in my corner.”

“Well, maybe he just didn’t get it either? He said it was basic. Thought he could do better.”

“Of course he did.” Isak rolled his eyes, but it was a lazy roll, one he’d done many times before, for a human who wasn’t even worth that effort. 

“Whatever. I think…the one thing I’ve learned from this evening, aside from the immeasurable glee I got from showing you off, is that I don’t want everyone to get it. I’m fine if people walk through, take in this bit of history, and move on to the more popular pieces deeper in the gallery. It _is_ basic. It accomplishes some things and satisfies others. But it also gives the museum an edge. It rewards those who want to look, who want to ask. Hubert doesn’t want to look. He doesn’t want to ask.”

Even felt the urge to speak up. “I—. I want to ask.”

Isak’s face lit up. “You do! I’m not sure you would’ve asked outright, but I think you would’ve come back next week and spent hours here, waiting for something more to be revealed. And I think you would’ve gotten it, if you’d given yourself some time, and if I weren’t so impatient.” Isak tugged on his arm, dragged him to a specific, unknown spot in front of the first painting.

“This—“ Isak pointed to the ground, instead of the art in front of them. “—is the most common place for a visitor to stand and view the art. The floor is worn down, and the wood actually dips. In fact we'll have to do something about that in the next couple of years. But anyway, I chose these first three rooms because the walls have the most common layouts, and over the years the center of whichever art we’ve put on display lines up in the same place. So the visitors stand in the same place to look at it directly, when they can. You are looking at the art in the most common, most desirable way. Not everyone has this perspective, but most try for it.”

“Okay.” Even rooted himself. He looked at Isak to make sure he was doing it right, but Isak just pointed to the painting.

Then Isak stepped back, out of Even’s peripheral vision, and gave instructions from behind him. “You look at the painting. You see what you see. Then you read the label, and you see what the artist saw. Then you look at the painting again and decide what you see now and what you’ll take away from it.”

Even nodded slightly. It had never been broken down like that for him before, but that is the exact level of attention he would give new art on a cursory tour, when he approached it without an agenda.

“Before you step away, look at the label again.”

Even did. He wondered if the words were supposed to be different this time, if Isak had somehow changed them. But they didn’t. He just read about Sisley and Louveciennes again.

“No, don’t read it. Just look at it.”

Even felt a hint of frustration again. It was a _label_. The point was that you were supposed to read it. He almost empathized with Hubert in that moment, ready to call Isak out for just making them shiny instead of the usual eggshe—.

Shiny. The labels were mirrors. The words were laser cut into a reflective glass, which made them a little more difficult to read than the standard ones but that…oh, that wasn’t the point. Even resisted taking a step closer, remembering Isak’s command about the floor. He closed his eyes and then opened them, forcing himself to not focus on the words.

And then he saw it. He spun around to find the other painting that was being reflected back to him in the mirror. It was on the opposite wall, but not directly behind him. He walked over to it and scanned the floor for the same point of worn wood. He stood. He looked. He read. He looked again. He saw it.

The snowy village sent him to a small Monet. The Monet sent him to Cézanne. Cézanne sent him to Morisot. Even crossed the room in long strides, following the reflections as they bounced around the end of the 19th century. He paused and looked at the art, but then he knew how to look, and his eyes shifted focus in order to find out what the art led to, what its future looked like.

Again Isak’s voice floated over to him from the center of the room. “It’s isn’t all direct. It isn’t all linear. It isn’t all necessary either. I don’t know what connections you’re making, but at least now you _can_. You can walk through this museum one way and see one impressionist after another, observe that kind of evolution. Or you can understand that these artists and their salons were just these…knots of creativity and feedback and influence, and that looking at a painting meant you were really looking at something else entirely.” Isak’s voice was smooth and confident and proud. Even listened to it and learned. At some point, in school maybe, he’d read about these artists and their work and the era they defined, but it wasn’t until now that he learned how that actually took shape. Isak had managed to bend time and space to make the art, the era, move right in front of him.

Even had made it to Mary Cassatt, her oil painting of two young women at tea time. He had brushed it off earlier as…pink. And funny. One woman’s expression seemed particularly scathing and could count as a reaction image on the internet now. Isak would’ve appreciated that interpretation as it was—he’d never asked for more or for different from Even—but now that Even knew how differently Isak saw things, he wanted to see them like that too. He stood still in the right spot. He read the label. Then he looked at the reflection and noticed the angle with which it jutted out from the wall. It would’ve made the label difficult to read if you were approaching it from the other direction, but here, in the right spot, Even saw…Isak.

Isak had stepped into his line of sight, slightly obstructing the next painting Even was supposed to see, to connect with. Even didn’t turn around. He looked at Isak in the reflection and waited for his commentary.

None came. They just looked at each other, observed each other through the reflection, gazes softened by the mirror and by the months they’d been together. They smiled at each other, as if they just realized for the first time, for the thousandth time, that they were in love. It was a smile they shared when they were brushing their teeth in their bathroom and when they were dressed in tuxedos in the national museum. The smile never faded. The love never wavered.

“If you keep going, it gets a little…forced. The label for the Renoir angles up to that.” Isak pointed toward the ceiling, and Even finally had to turn around to make sense of the direction. He saw the curved mirror installed in the entranceway to the second room, similar to the kind that is installed by a garage door or loading dock, to give a driver increased visibility. At this distance it didn’t point to any piece of art in particular, just encouraged you to move to the next room, to find new angles. “Sylvie said she loves it because she can check her uniform in it.”

Even followed the mirror. He swept past Isak and held out his hand, which Isak took in stride. They went back to the second room, but Even didn’t do another frenzied zig-zag. They simply looped it slowly, and Even caught flashes of the other work he _could_ see if he wanted to. This time he mostly just admired what the vague notes and muttered thoughts that Isak had been obsessing over for most of the year had turned into.

“Isak, this is art.”

Isak snorted. “Baby, we’re in a fine art museum.”

Even let go of Isak’s hand in order to hook his arm around Isak’s neck and pull him in close. “Ugh, no, I mean your exhibit. What you made is art.” He murmured his defense into Isak’s hair. They kept walking.

“Technically it’s trigonometry. But it isn’t art. _You_ make art. I just find art. Save art. Translate art. What you are good at creating, I am good at understanding.”

“What is art if not an understanding?”

Isak stopped suddenly, almost tripping up Even as they were leaning heavily on each other. “I should make that a poster for my new office.”

Even released him in faux exasperation, flinging his arms wide and stepping away. He was annoyed that Isak made light of his awe, his attempt at complimenting and honoring Isak. But he knew that he couldn’t be, because he did the same thing. It didn’t matter anyway, because Isak’s giggle echoed in the empty room and Even forgot every other emotion besides the instant delight he felt at the sound. They returned to being wrapped around each other, and walking past art.

Even glanced at the mirror at the border between the second and third room before they crossed it.

“Did Geir get it?”

“I don’t think so. He looked at the labels for a long time but I don’t think he understood why they were angled or what else he could see in the reflection. He told me after he did his first walk-through that we would probably have to pay someone to polish the mirrors every day. I think he thought I just wanted fancier labels.”

“Hubert was the same.”

“Yeah, they’re…very similar men.”

“Hubert is hotter though.”

Isak pinched Even’s waist, hard enough to make Even twist out of his grip in pain.

“Hey! Sexy pinching only!”

“That was completely out of line and you know it.” Isak wagged his finger. “Besides, he already knows how attractive he is, which makes him just a thousand time worse. But please, let’s not talk about him in my exhibit, in this room.”

Even chuckled. He’d put a lot of money on Isak, in thirty or so years, being exactly like Hubert. Not quite as arrogant, but still fit, with a smooth face and perfectly-styled hair, expensive suit, and an entire museum, an entire city, in the palm of his hand. Hell, he had all of that right now. Except he didn’t flirt brazenly with other men—just Even.

“Will you explain it to Geir?” Even gestured at the walls. “I got the private tour, but will you do that for everyone who doesn’t see it?”

“Nooooooo. I would’ve added some sort of viewing instruction to the exhibit copy if I wanted everyone to experience it a certain way. I like that it’s kind of…a secret.”

Even looked at Isak. He looked at the perfect slope of his nose and the curve of his cheekbone. He watched him up close while he talked.

“I like it for me, almost like a party trick that I can whip out to impress people. I also like that people need to work for it. I think it adds a bit of an incentive to the exhibit, for these pieces of art that you might’ve seen before. There isn’t any pressure to understand the art any more than you want to, but if you want to, you can. And it gives people something to say about the art as well. Even if they don’t have a way to connect an actual painting of a woman with a mandolin, they can still connect with the mirrors. So when you talk about the museum it’s less ‘Did you see this art?’ and more ‘Did you have this experience?’ The visitor can have a secret too.”

Even didn’t try to marvel at Isak’s work out loud again. He squeezed his shoulder though, and hoped the message was received.

“I’ll let someone else tell Geir the secret. I’ll let someone else make him realize he didn’t get it, despite watching me develop it for months.”

Even realized then that Isak loved secrets. He loved the power he had with them, the ability to deploy them however he’d like. He could wait for a public display like he did with Hubert, or he could punish someone privately when he decided they weren’t worth the effort or drama. Even wondered if there were any secrets that Isak was withholding from him, but again he couldn’t dwell on it for too long because Isak pulled away to walk to the center of the room.

“I know I told you that I chose these rooms for the walls but that’s only partly true.”

Even smiled. If Isak liked to keep secrets, he never could keep them from Even. He tucked his hands into his pockets and watched Isak in the most desirable way: like he was the only art in the room.

“This is where we met.” Isak’s voice was still smooth and confident and proud. “Actually before we met. This is where I first saw you.”

“This is where I first saw you too.”

“That’s all it took.”

Isak had told him this before. He would tell him again. He would repeat it as often as he needed to say it, and as often as Even needed to hear it.

Even responded for the both of them. “I was sold.”

Then, his secret: “I made this for you. I made this for you and because of you and about you. If you ask anyone else they’ll know I was just doing my job, curating art, educating Oslo, sharing a history and culture that still influences us to this day. But you should know that this exhibit came together because you came into my life, right here.” Isak pointed at the ground, where the Degas sculpture had been. “I want you to know that I look at art and I see you. I see the brush strokes that you’ll paint on your own canvases and the colors you’ll wear on your socks. I see the phases of the struggling artists and know that you will survive them, and create through them. I look in the mirror and I see you, even when you don’t want to see yourself. And I want you to be able to look in a mirror and see what I see too.

“I know it’s hard, Even. But it’s so fucking beautiful. You are art. So I put you in my museum.”

Even’s heart swelled. He pressed a hand to his chest to feel it for himself. From across the room he looked at Isak and said, “I love you.”

Isak saw him and said, “I love you, too.”

In the third room of the linear layout of the gallery, the lights turned down low.

* * *

That was some romantic as fuck timing. The main lights of the gallery had dimmed almost completely, and small security lights lit up the doorways and corners from the ground. Even took a few long strides to reach Isak in the middle of the room and he held him in his arms and kissed him like they do in the movies. They lost their breath in the darkness. They stole it from each other.

Then Isak said, “We have to go. The alarms turn on in ten minutes.”

“Really?” They shifted from a romantic drama to a heist movie.

“Yes. And I can tell you want to hang around to see if they turn into a grid of lasers but we’re not going to do that. I want some waffles.” Isak’s hands ran from where they’d been wrapped around Even’s neck down his arms, to tangle their fingers together again. He pulled him gently toward the entrance.

“But do they?”

“They do not. Besides, a thief would have a much better chance at stealing something in broad daylight, when Sylvie is on duty.”

“Noted.”

They walked back to the grand staircase, and Even lived in the heist fantasy for a little bit longer, thinking he really could move some priceless art in a tight tuxedo. They went all the way down to the basement, where Isak had to grab his bag and shut down his computer. Even dropped into a chair to wait while Isak closed up shop.

“When do you move?”

“Not for a while. I have to wait until Geir transitions into his part-time status, and that probably won’t happen until the new year. But I’m not in a real rush either. I like my office. I have fond memories of certain things.” Isak winked at Even while he threw his tote bag over his shoulder. Even pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. Once he’d sat down he didn’t want to get up again.

“Oh yes, we’ve had some good times in here.”

“You want to have another good time? Maybe around lunch on Tuesday?”

“Sure, I’ll have Kim put me on your calendar.”

Even made that joke whenever Isak scheduled sex, so it barely registered a response from Isak this time. He did give him a quick kiss though, and then walked around him to the door. Even followed him and glanced at the wall right before hitting the light switch.

“Rule of Seven? More like Rule of Even.” He punched the air, Breakfast Club-style.

Isak was already out in the sea of cubicles when he heard _that_ joke, and he gasped, turning to face Even. “I think I hate how perfect that is.”

“Add it to the list, babe. Right up there with my dick, my fingers, and my ass in your sweatpants.”

There were more things, of course, but those were the ones Isak commented on the most. Even dropped his hands on Isak’s shoulders and spun him back toward the hallway. They marched to the employee entrance.

“Rule of _Even_ ,” Isak muttered, still amazed by the wordplay.

Even opened the door and they burst out into the cool September evening. He fell into step alongside Isak and they made the short walk under intermittent streetlights to the bus stop. Even was quiet while Isak was clearly still running something through his head. He held Isak’s hand and waited.

“Like…shit. It makes sense! It fits! Why bother with seven when you could just fall in love at first sight?” Isak threw up his free arm in a mix of relief and exasperation. “So fucking easy.”

“I know, right? You get it.” Even encouraged the joke because it was also the truth. So fucking easy.

Isak sighed again, that same mix. He leaned against Even’s shoulder, then turned into his chest for a hug. “You get it.”

They waited for their bus.

“I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the end. thank you for reading. there will be a little something extra on tuesday, before i jump on a plane to oslo.
> 
> voff


	36. Ophelia

The door was closed. She knew what that meant. Ophelia slid down to the floor in the hallway, far enough away from the door to not have to hear every sound but ready to jump up as soon as she could sense one of them was about to open it. In the mornings the wait usually lasted about twenty minutes.

Even hadn’t always been this loud. She remembered what he was like at the beginning, when he was just a puppy. He was scared and nervous constantly, with only random bursts of boldness breaking through. Now he talked a lot. He talked to Ophelia on their walks. He talked to himself when he was making dinner. He talked to Isak when they were together and when they were apart. He talked to Isak now, when they were in bed, very loudly. Unfortunately, Ophelia understood some of the words. 

She hoped Isak was obeying Even’s commands.

And she took a twenty-minute nap.

* * *

Ophelia scrambled to her feet when she heard Even’s voice. It was back to a normal level and close to the door. He appeared seconds later and greeted Ophelia like a long-lost friend, dropping into a wide squat to receive her. She rushed into his crotch, which smelled fresh (the detergent in his sweatpants) and pungent (Isak). He gave her a solid minute of ear scratches to make up for the closed door. Then Isak appeared above them. “We’re going to be late.” Isak squeezed past them in the doorway and went straight to the bathroom.

“And that is my fault? You took forever—“

Isak turned around at the door and shot Even a look. “When I say harder, you need to actually do it.” He disappeared into the bathroom and immediately turned on the shower.

Even looked down at Ophelia and gave her a little pout. “Don’t worry, he’s not really mad. He liked it, promise.”

It had taken years for Ophelia to understand the very fine line between Isak being mad and Isak teasing mad. With Even, it was always him just teasing mad. But still Even comforted Ophelia as if she didn’t understand what was really going on. She’d seen Even disappear into the bathroom too, for another twenty minutes with Isak, enough times to know what was really going on. He did that again, now, so she returned to her spot in the hallway, where the wood floor was still warm.

She listened to the shower running. She listened to the sink running. She listened to Isak laughing. Then they tumbled out of the bathroom and stumbled back to the bedroom. Ophelia stood up and walked quietly into the bathroom. She sniffed at the puddles of water they’d left behind on the floor. She would check on those again later, to make sure they were gone. Then, finally, she was able to walk back into the bedroom.

Since she had been denied access to her bed, she stole the bigger one. Almost silently she leapt up onto the foot of Isak’s bed and rearranged the mess of the duvet into a satisfying nest. Both Even and Isak gave her brief pets and rubs as they crossed between the closet and the mirror and the hamper.

“Don’t you ever wish you could wear shorts to work?” Even was gently tucking himself into a pair of denim shorts in front of the mirror. Isak was at his rack unclipping his grey chinos.

“Not really. It’s always cool in the museum.”

“Yeah, but it’s summer. Even if you’re comfortable physically, doesn’t it feel like you’re betraying the season?”

Isak stopped to stare at Even and process what he just said. “Am I betraying summer by wearing pants to work?” It didn’t make any more sense when he tried to repeat it.

Even caught his confusion in the mirror. “Ah, never mind. I think it’s just one of my things. Like, I see everyone else wearing shorts and I feel like I need to too, because if I don’t, then I must be, like, misunderstanding the weather.”

“So you’re not wearing shorts because it’s warm out, you’re wearing shorts because everyone else thinks it’s warm out.”

“Maybe? Probably.”

Isak had a knack for interpreting Even’s thoughts for him. Some things took longer chats to work through, and this could’ve probably been the bulk of an entire dinner conversation, but they didn’t have the time.

“Okay. Well sometimes it feels weird to be on the bus in a suit when everyone is all casual, but in the museum I often feel underdressed. You know Camilla; ‘Casual Friday’ is not in her vocabulary. And even a tuxedo feels underdressed when you’re standing next to an 18th century nude. Light-weight pants are about as relaxed as I can get.” Isak paired his chinos with a button-up shirt and blazer. If he was feeling saucy he’d leave the top two buttons undone. But that usually didn’t happen until after lunch.

“And my jorts are high fashion compared to what some of our programmers roll up in.”

“Right, so temperature control and oil paintings keep me in pants, while nerds and lunch walks make you more comfortable in shorts.”

Ophelia raised her head at the command, which Isak noticed and tried to shut down.

“No, leave it.”

“It’s okay, I’ll probably do one today.” Even had picked up a new habit of taking Ophelia out for short walks at lunchtime, when he needed to step away from his desk for any reason. He did it sparingly so that it wasn’t part of her regular schedule, and thus she wouldn’t miss it if Even got too busy or too worn down. But now was a good time.

“Thank you.” Isak sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on his no-show socks. He stayed there and waited for Even to finish getting dressed, playing with Ophelia’s tail while he did so.

Isak did not understand that her tail was supposed to remain curled up around her legs. Ophelia would snap at the air if he kept it up much longer.

Luckily for everyone, Even was quick to choose his own colorful pair of socks and pull them on, completing his look. Isak abandoned Ophelia’s tail. They collected their phones and wallets in sync, then left the room.

Ophelia stayed on the bed. She knew what was going to happen: they would put on their shoes at the door, then Even would press Isak against the wall and mess up his shirt and hair, and then there would be more of that mad teasing before they finally stepped outside. She waited to listen for the heavy click of the lock. Only when she heard it did she hop off the bed. Then it was time for rounds.

The first stop was the kitchen, where she confirmed that yes, she did eat all of her breakfast and licked the bowl clean of any crumbs. The thought of it made her thirsty again so she drank some water. Then she dropped her nose to the floor and sniffed the edges of the room, running along the counter. Sometimes there were drops of ice cream from when Isak and Even let their cones melt in their hands because their tongues were occupied with other things.

After the kitchen was the living room, for another sniff check. Sometimes Ophelia could follow a trail of dinner crumbs, but most of the time she just hopped up onto the couch and curled up into the corner that smelled the most like Even. The left cushion was a little flatter than the right because he would spend days there at a time. Even when Ophelia sat at the opposite end and rested her head on his ankles it wasn’t enough to balance out the weight. Now though, she took his place. She listened for her neighbors as they also went to work. She heard the children cheer when the nanny arrived. And then she fell asleep.

Ophelia woke up when the sunbeam had shifted to her hindquarters and stayed there for too long. She was warm, almost overheating. She stepped down from the couch and stretched, then let herself pant for a bit to cool down. She resumed her rounds.

She went to the front door and sniffed for any intruders who might have crossed the threshold during her nap. Nothing was disturbed. There was still that piece of mud on the bottom of Even’s rain boot that smelled like the little Yorkie from the bench in the park. Ophelia tipped it over with her nose in hopes that he would notice the sole and clean it up. That Yorkie never set foot on the ground so it’s a wonder how she managed to scent the mud.

But then Ophelia moved on. She checked the bathroom and was pleased that the water had evaporated. There were other smells in there that she wanted to avoid as well, so she didn’t stay too long. She gave a passing sniff to the closet door and then finally made it back to her throne: the orthopedic foam bed in the corner next to Isak’s desk. He’d recently washed the cover so it was overwhelmingly “linen fresh” but a good stretch and roll, with some scratching and snuffing thrown in each day, would return it to its glory in no time. Ophelia flopped about, scratching some itches along her spine, and then let herself lie there. Her home was safe. Her boys would be back soon. She fell asleep again, and her deep breaths became light snores that fluttered her chops.

* * *

The lock! The door! Ophelia slid as she ran from the bedroom to the front hall, her nails preventing her toes from gripping the wood floor. Even’s voice boomed out in greeting and it was music to her ears.

“Opheeeeelia!”

She rounded the corner and didn’t stop until she hit legs.

“Heyyyy baby girl.”

She wriggled in and out of his arms for a few minutes, torn between wanting to be rubbed down and wanting to go for a walk. She bounced toward the leash, then bounced back to his hands, then the leash, then the hands, and then finally Even made the decision for them. He straightened up and pulled down her leash, and she immediately sat still so he could hook her up.

“Oh you’re such a good girl. Wait, let’s take a picture.” Even held the leash in one hand and pulled out his phone with the other. Ophelia remained sitting, even when Even dropped into another squat. She didn’t like when he held that thing in her face, but she put up with it, because when he was done then he would talk to her in a squeaky voice and scratch that spot right above her tail. “You’re so regal. Aaaaand one more in portrait mode. Okay.” The phone disappeared, her back got scratched, and the leash was finally hooked to her collar. They were free.

Her first mission once they were outside was to figure out which route they would take. She wouldn’t know until they hit their second crosswalk, so until they got there she peed at her usual spots: that square of dirt with the weak little tree in it and the curb with all of the gum spots. She sniffed and knew that the poodle two buildings down from hers had left his mark as well, which meant it was her turn to claim the sidewalk. After she’d emptied most of her bladder, she matched Even’s pace and headed toward the crosswalk.

They went left. This was Ophelia’s usual route, which would take them through the park. It was fine. It was less exciting than a visit to Even’s apartment, but they only did that at lunch when Even needed to pick up something and he wanted company on his errand run. But then Ophelia remembered that she might get to see that nice Brittany who did lunchtime walks too, and that got her tail up again.

Even was such a good walker. Isak was acceptable, but he was usually distracted, which meant he slowed down or sped up without notice, tugging on Ophelia’s leash unnecessarily. With Even she could find his pace and keep it for most of the walk. He would slow when he saw her sniffing something interesting, and speed up if there was another dog that they should go and meet. He also convinced that bodega to leave out a bowl of water for dogs, so she could take a drink on hot days, and wouldn’t be left thirsty when he needed to pop in for a quick purchase. After a good thirty minutes in the park they went to the bodega and Even tied her up to the downspout on the corner of the building. She had a drink and relaxed on the warm concrete while he picked up a hot sandwich and bottle of soda.

“Okay Ophie, time to go.” She’d just shut her eyes against the direct sunlight when Even reappeared and worked the knot of her leash loose. “I have something to show you when we get home.”

She hoped it was half of his sandwich.

* * *

Back at the apartment Even ate his entire sandwich. Ophelia didn’t get a single crumb, despite her strategic position next to him on the couch, her nose at his shoulder. He let her sniff his hands when he revealed they were empty, but that was it. Quite a disappointment. Even stood up but told her to wait; he was just going to the kitchen to throw out his napkin and bottle. She trusted Even’s command now (though sometimes she ignored it) and remained on the couch until he came back.

“Okay, so.” He dropped down into his seat. Ophelia settled down too, tucking her paws under his thigh and resting her head on top of his leg. “First of all, this is a secret, just between you and me. Don’t say anything to Isak.”

If she fell asleep now, she could get in a decent nap before he would have to go back to work. His leg was warm. His voice was soft and deep.

“I’ve been watching this one Instagram account; it’s this lady who fosters shelter dogs and hosts adoption events. I think she works for a rescue but the account is just…her house. I thought it was really random that she was on my explore page but then I figured out that her house is close to Marianne’s, and this was like, targeted for me. Some call it an algorithm, I’ll call it fate.

“The dogs she gets don’t hang around too long. They’re really cute and she’s really good at matching them with great owners. Like this Pit Bull, she only had him for a week, but he comes to visit her like once a month and she posts updates about it. It’s really sweet. Anyway, I’ve been following her for a while now and there’s this one black dog that’s always in the background. I messaged her about it to see if it was her own pet or if it was just waiting longer than the others for a home. She said that it’s a long-term foster because he’s been a challenge to find a match. Apparently no one likes black dogs, which is weirdly…racist. But, I was thinking we should go visit this dog tomorrow, when we drive up to Marianne’s.”

Even shoved the phone in her face and played a video of some puppies from the foster home. Ophelia was annoyed, and now that dumb brick was making weird noises, and keeping his hands busy when he should be petting her. She cocked her head at the sound of the puppies but couldn’t figure out where they were.

“Ignore the puppies. The black dog is in the background. She said he’s a mix, and he sheds a little bit, but I think it would be nice to have a furry friend during the winter to curl up with.”

Ophelia looked away and Even took his phone back. He scrolled through some more posts, looking for the dog in the background. “Well…I’m going to try to talk to Isak about it tonight. Or maybe tomorrow. Maybe I’ll wait until we’re in the car. Or we could just go for a walk and casually pass by the house at the exact time I asked to visit and pretend it was a coincidence. You’d have to play it cool though. Don’t blow my cover.”

Ophelia dropped her head back on his leg. She knew his time was almost up. Maybe if she shoved more of her weight in his lap he would stay. But Even took the extra movement from her as an opportunity to stand. Ophelia hopped off of the couch to get out of the way of his legs.

“I haven’t been this nervous about something in a very long time. I don’t know why. Maybe because I can’t tell what he’d want. And I don’t want him thinking that I’m trying to replace you or anything. God.” He dropped to a squat again to get on Ophelia’s level. He cradled her head in his hands. “It’s just a dog. It’s not a big deal if we don’t get another one. You’re perfect.” Even kissed her forehead. “But sometimes I wonder if you’re lonely.”

Ophelia was not lonely. The way she followed him to the door when he had to leave might have made it seem like she was, but she was not. She was just worried. She was worried he would go out the door and then never come back.

He always did come back. But there was that time, at the beginning, when he didn’t. And she had to pull Isak all the way to his apartment, because if something is not going to come to you, you have to go to it. That was the rule for chasing squirrels, and of course it also applied to Even.

So she was a little worried when he left again. Ophelia waited to hear the lock click, and then she went back to the bedroom. She jumped up onto Isak’s bed and pawed at the duvet, stirring up their smells. She flopped onto her side and rubbed her neck in it. He’ll come back. He’ll come back.

She carried his scent and her mantra to her own bed, curling up against the bolster and sleeping until Even came back.

* * *

After dinner, Even peeled and chopped up three apples on the cutting board and carried it to the bedroom. Isak was already in bed, propped up against the headboard with his reading glasses on. He had a handful of catalogs spread out around him, his homework for the night. Ophelia was curled up near his knees. When Even entered the room she didn’t move, but her tail thwacked against one of the catalogs.

“Before I forget, Mamma said she’ll pick us up at 8 tomorrow.”

“So early.” He set the cutting board in Isak’s lap while he changed into pajamas. Ophelia, finally catching the smell of the apples, stood up and stared at Isak.

“You may have _one_.” Isak held up one chunk of apple for Ophelia and waited until she sat down again. Then she gently lipped it from his fingertips. “She wants to make sure we have a full day.”

“A full day of what? All we’re doing is…hanging out.”

“Exactly. A full day of hanging out.”

Ophelia was excited, for the apples and for the trip to Marianne’s. Whenever they went it was dedicated Ophelia time: long walks in the woods, extra treats from Mamma, the special basket of toys by the fireplace, and a couch big enough to fit all of them comfortably. She tried not to beg too aggressively for more apples, because she didn’t want Isak to be angry right before they went to Marianne’s. Ophelia backed off when Even climbed into bed, letting him cozy up to Isak in her place.

“What’s all this, then?” Even held up one of the catalogs that he’d pushed away in order to press himself into Isak’s side.

“Camilla is trying to get me into textiles. Fashion. It’s obviously not my strong suit but she thinks I might be inspired if I see what others are doing with their collections.”

“Have you told her about my idea yet?”

“No, Even we’re not going to do a collection on butts.”

“But did you _tell_ her? Maybe she thinks it would work! Clearly there has been interest in butts all throughout history, and I think it would be a great draw for the museum. You could have tours with different ratings and age-appropriateness.” Even ticked off highlights from his pitch on his fingers.

“I did not tell her. First of all, our permanent collection does not have the range of butts that you seek for an exhibit, and our budget does not have the range to import more butts. You can pitch it to Camilla yourself at our next dinner but I do think you’ll get a similar rejection.” Isak’s voice was calm, as if he was familiar with unsolicited suggestions and the polite way to stop Even’s imagination before he wasted energy on it. He used the same tone when Ophelia wanted to join the off-leash dogs at the park.

“Fine. Maybe I will. When is our next date?”

“I’ll have to check with Camilla, and she’ll have to check with Fredrik. But we’re certainly due.”

“Mmm.”

They crunched through the apples while they chatted. Ophelia’s eyes locked onto their hands as they moved from the cutting board to their mouths. One piece didn’t make it to Even’s mouth though; he held it in his palm for Ophelia.

Isak clicked his tongue but neither of them said no so Ophelia dove for it. She still had a soft mouth, but she wasn’t going to risk the offer being revoked.

Even reached over and sorted the remaining apples on the board. “These are Ophelia’s.” Three chunks were set aside. “We can have the rest.”

“Oh?”

“What, you thought I peeled and chopped all of these just for you? Isak, please.”

Ophelia finished chewing just in time to accept the second chunk from Even. Isak must’ve given him another look, because Even quickly negotiated. “If you let Ophie eat her apples then I will eat your ass.”

“Well! She can have the rest.” Isak practically tossed the cutting board into Even’s lap and began tidying up the catalogs. Even laughed. When Isak slid out of bed to put the pile of catalogs on his desk, he showed off his raging erection and edible ass.

“Mmmm,” Even hummed in appreciation at the sight. The yoga was doing wonders. He fed a chunk of apple to Ophelia, and offered one to Isak when he returned. He ate it on his hands and knees.

Even fed them, alternating bites for each until all of the apples were gone. Ophelia drooled apple juice on the duvet cover and Isak drooled apple juice down his chin, leaving it there for Even to lick up. Once the board was cleared, Even set it on Isak’s bedside table. “All done, baby girl.” He let her lick his hand to prove that there was nothing left to crunch.

Isak was patient enough, but his dick was also drooling while he had to wait. “Ophelia, go.” He pointed to the open door behind him.

It took a gentle shove from Even, but she did hop off the bed and trot out to the living room. Even got out of bed to close the door behind her. Isak rolled onto his stomach, spread his legs, and anticipated his treat.

* * *

Marianne was right on time, and managed to find a parking spot not too far from their building. She let herself in with her key (after texting Isak a warning, of course), and was greeted by Ophelia at the door. “How’s my favorite granddaughter?!” Marianne couldn’t drop down anymore because of her knees, but she held a hand to the wall while she bent over and received kisses.

“Mamma please do not refer to her as that.” Isak appeared in the hallway with their one overnight bag, which had clothes and toiletries for both of them.

“She is my son’s baby. That is what you call them.” She traded the car keys for Isak’s bag. Even joined them in the hallway, squeezing past Isak to gather Ophelia’s leash and travel bowl.

“Does that make me her stepdad? Hi Marianne.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“I think you’re just a regular dad.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”

Marianne turned and led them out to the car. She took the back seat with Ophelia and the bag. Isak drove. Even held his hand when he didn’t need it.

Halfway to her house, Marianne floated a question to the car. “Do you think Ophelia is lonely?”

Even shifted in his seat. Isak leaned to his left to look at Marianne in the rear view mirror. “What?”

Marianne was petting Ophelia, had been the entire ride, so she was relaxed enough to lie down despite Isak’s rough driving. “Do you think she wants a friend?”

“She has a friend.” Isak thumbed over at Even, who let out a nervous chuckle. “He visits her on his lunch break and spoils her with human food.”

“But when you’re not home. Like the last time you visited, and you hiked up to Grefsenkollen for dinner, she was just curled up on the couch the whole time, waiting for you to come home. I tried to play with her but I don’t think I was appealing enough. It made me think that she would like a dog friend.”

Ophelia’s ears hitched forward at “dog.” She knew they were talking about her then, in a way that she wasn’t supposed to know. When they used her name she could be included in the conversation. When they said “dog” then they were talking _about_ her. She sat up.

“See? She wants a friend.” Marianne used the sudden attention from Ophelia to prove her point.

“Mamma….”

“I just…I have a friend. She lives two streets over. I think you’ve met her before. But she has these dogs that she takes care of and she’s always asking if I’m ready for one.”

“It sounds like she thinks _you're_ lonely.”

Even whipped around in his seat, as far as his seat belt would let him. “Wait, is this Astrid?”

“Yes! How do you know her?”

“I found her on Instagram! I’ve been watching her dogs!”

“She’s on Instagram?”

Even fumbled his phone trying to open the app in his excitement. It dropped between the console and the seat, and he cursed while he tried to fish it out. Ophelia leaned forward to sniff the crevice, as if that would provide assistance. Marianne looped her arm around her neck to pull her back.

“Shit. Ah. Got it. Okay.” He pulled up Astrid’s profile and selected the video of the puppies he’d been watching yesterday.

“Yes, that’s her house! Oh she has puppies!”

“We are _not_ getting a puppy.” Isak was generally confused by the excitement over something he could not look at, but at least he knew he could put his foot down on that issue.

“No, no, I don’t think you could handle a puppy. Maybe one that is closer to Ophelia’s age, with the same energy level.” Marianne nodded at Even so he could take his phone back. She didn’t need to see the house she would drive past or the dogs that Astrid walked down her street.

“I’ve had my eye on an older one,” Even mentioned, and Isak’s head whipped around to glare at him.

“Is this a setup? Have you been conspiring to adopt another dog with my mom?”

“The road, Isak,” Even gently reminded him. “And no. This is a complete coincidence. Astrid’s profile was on my Instagram explore page, and I like dogs, so I was following her posts. She always has these lovely uplifting stories too, of dogs who found good homes.”

“You have a good home. You could be one of those stories.”

Isak let out a little whine at Marianne’s kind, yet accurate suggestion. Ophelia knew that whine; it meant Isak was very close to giving in. Ophelia’s tail went wild, knowing someone—maybe her?—was going to get exactly what they wanted.

Everyone else in the car attributed the tail wagging to the fact that Isak was about to pull into Marianne’s driveway. The dog discussion was put on hold while they focused on getting out of the car and into the house. Even took Ophelia on a brief turn about Marianne’s small yard and she peed once, to announce her arrival. Then they settled down inside.

* * *

“Let’s take a walk.”

“Hmm?” Isak and Ophelia looked up at Even, who had stood up from the rocking chair and walked over to where they were lounging on the sofa. Ophelia was on alert at the command, but unsure, as it wasn’t their usual time. It was late even for a lunch walk.

“I’d like to go visit Astrid.” He held out his hand.

Isak scrunched up his nose but he turned down the corner of his book and closed it. He pulled his legs out from under Ophelia and took Even’s hand to help him stand up. “Are you really sticking to your story that you just randomly found her on Instagram?”

“Yes! That is genuinely how I found her, months ago. Mamma’s conversation was just as much a surprise to me as it was to you. But I think it’s a sign.”

“Wait, let me get her bottle.”

Even was walking to the door but Isak detoured to the kitchen to fill up a bottle of water for Ophelia. Even clipped her bowl to her leash, checked for bags, and hooked her up. “We’re going to meet a friend,” he whispered to her. Ophelia’s tail thumped, because it was Even.

“I texted Mamma that we’re walking. She said we need to be back by 7.”

“Easy enough.”

Ophelia went out the door first, followed by Even and then Isak. He locked it behind him. She wanted to go left, which was the start of her usual route in this neighborhood, but Even went right and she quickly corrected herself. 

“I feel like I need to repeat myself that we’re not getting a puppy. We can’t handle that, really.”

“I agree.”

“You’ve been such a great help, taking over most of her care, but…she’s so low-maintenance compared to most pets. She just wants a game of fetch every once in a while, and to make sure you’re still breathing. A whole other dog would more than double the amount of work, and that’s only _if_ they get along well enough to not cause trouble on top of that.”

“I understand. But we’re just going to visit Astrid and say hello. I want to pet this one dog she’s had for a while, and maybe Ophelia will want to play with him. She could use a playdate.”

Which was true. Ever since Even started staying over regularly and walked her whenever Isak couldn’t get home in time, Ophelia hadn’t had to visit the neighbors. She still chased friends in the park, but those were never extended sessions because both owners usually had to keep moving. Isak acknowledged this with a nod. A romp around a yard with other dogs would do her good.

Isak recognized the house when they’d arrived. He wouldn’t have recognized Astrid on the street, but he probably only met her years ago when he was still living at home. She greeted them at the door, wearing long shorts and a flowing, plaid shirt, the uniform of an animal wrangler, and paid special attention to Ophelia, who was already trying to lunge past her legs to get at whoever was barking in the house.

Astrid stood up and wiped a bit of sweat back into her brown hair. “I’m glad we didn’t agree to meet any earlier; I’ve been keeping the dogs inside because of the heat but they could all use some pool time.”

“You have a pool?”

“Oh you know, those little plastic ones for kids. I dump a bag of ice in one and fill the other with water and it’s like I took them to an amusement park.”

“That’s clever.”

“Yes. I don’t post videos of their pool time because then I get nasty comments about them chewing on ice or peeing in the water. But I’d hate for those people to learn what animals do in the wild.” Her laugh was light, and it stirred up another round of barks. “Why don’t you go around the outside? I’ll meet you in the yard. The fence unhooks from the outside. I don’t want to cause any problems with her indoors from the start, you know?”

“Of course, of course.” Even, who’d been the only one talking, took the lead on this as well. He turned all of them around and marched to the side of the house, where they met a tall, white privacy fence.

“So when were you going to tell me that you scheduled a meeting with Astrid?”

“How about now? Is right now a good time?” Even gave Isak a sheepish smile as he unhooked the door. Ophelia pawed at the wood because he simply wasn’t doing it fast enough.

“You would be in so much trouble if I didn’t love you.”

Ophelia was briefly distracted by a yelp from Even, the one that meant Isak had just pinched him. She used to be alarmed by it, but after some consoling by Isak she understood that he was not actually hurting Even.

But then the door was open and she was _in_.

“You can let her off her leash, it’s all fenced,” Astrid hollered from her back deck. Even unclipped Ophelia and her nose dropped to the ground, overwhelmed by the number of smells and unable to choose which one to track. She decided to be methodical about it, hitting the perimeter first and working inward. Isak and Even went to the deck to help Astrid set up the pools.

Like she said, there were two light blue plastic pools that they dragged to the next part of her yard that needed watering. Isak and Even stood with the hose filling one up while she went back inside for the ice. Ophelia took a passing interest in them, sniffing the water, before moving on. She’d played in those before. She might again. But it reminded her of the place she’d been at before Isak took her home, so it wasn’t an obvious attraction. Maybe if she got hot enough, later.

The crash of the ice was loud.

“Does she play with dogs often?”

“Oh yes, every day in the park. I’d say there are about twenty dogs that she knows and greets regularly, and she’s polite whenever a new one pops up.”

“Great. I’m going to release the hounds now, so this will be fun. They’re all friendly, but if she reacts poorly you can step in and leash her again.”

“Okay.” Even had looped the leash around his neck like a scarf, but he unwound it now to be prepared. Isak turned off the hose and walked it back to the house. Ophelia could feel Even’s nerves and abandoned her trail in order to stand by his side. “Ready, Ophes?”

Astrid was up on the deck and she slid open the door. A pile of brown and white puppies tumbled out, followed by three adult dogs who stepped over them with their longer legs. All of them headed straight for Even and Ophelia.

Her tail shot up and her legs stiffened, bracing for the onslaught. She knew those puppies wouldn’t stop until they hit something solid, and that was most likely going to be her. They crashed and sniffed and nipped and jumped, pausing for a solid whiff of her butt and trying to lick her chin. She held still to let them do what they needed to do. The big dogs approached cautiously. She let them sniff too.

Even was still wafting off nervous energy, even when Isak was back at his side. Ophelia’s tail was still up and whipping back and forth, but apparently that wasn’t enough. She dropped her head to sniff some of the puppies.

A husky, satisfied with Ophelia’s presence, stepped into the ice pool and focused on cooling down instead. He scooped up a mouthful to chomp on and then plopped down in the middle.

“And that is where Blue will remain for the next hour.”

“He’s beautiful,” Isak admired.

“He's going home tomorrow. He’s one of the fastest turnarounds I’ve had, though everyone is a sucker for blue eyes.”

Ophelia was not. She ignored the adult dogs, who ignored her right back, and dropped down to her belly. The puppies pounced, and she let them try to conquer her shoulders. This was the easy part, when playing was the point.

“Has she been bred?”

“I don’t think so. She was already spayed when I got her, and there wasn’t anything in her records.”

“I’ll check her nipples when she turns over. But she seems to have a good understanding of mothering no matter what.”

Even giggled at the mention of Ophelia’s nipples. Isak pinched him again, under the guise of wrapping his arm around Even’s waist.

“Rescues are always a mystery, especially if you get them older. But my guys get x-rayed and a full work-up before they come to me, so I know what I’m dealing with. Luckily the mixes start pretty clean, though I did have one who had an entirely reconstructed hind leg that no one knew about. She didn’t limp or anything, and she runs fine to this day, but it was just this funny surprise, like oh, did you know your dog is ten percent titanium?”

Even laughed more appropriately.

“Yeah, Ophelia had a cough when I got her, but that was just from being in the kennel. It cleared up pretty quick.”

“That’s good.” 

All three of them watched the dogs for a bit. They migrated to the shade of the trees at the back of the yard to keep cool. Ophelia stayed in the sun, rolling around to give the puppies a chase and a challenge. From a distance Astrid decided that she’d never had a litter.

“Um…where’s the Flattie?” Even asked after scanning the yard.

“Oh, right! The one you were interested in. He’s not as excited about…well, anything. So sometimes he stays inside. Hold on, I’ll get him.”

When Astrid walked away, Isak asked, “His name is Flattie?”

“No, that’s his breed. A flat-coated retriever.”

“What a funny nickname.”

“Well he has a real name that we can use.”

“I see what you’re doing, talking about him like he’s already ours. Hold your horses, babe.”

Ophelia stood up and walked over to her owners, to check on them. A few puppies followed, but some finally took notice of the pools and dove in. Isak extended a hand to give her a pet. “We’re waiting for your friend, Ophie. What’s his name?” He looked to Even.

“Um. I actually don’t know. We just called him the black Flattie.”

“That sounds like a coffee order. ‘I’ll take the Flattie, black.’”

Astrid stepped out onto the deck again, and a large black dog followed her like a shadow. He didn’t leap off the ledge like every other dog had; he kept close to her ankles and walked down the steps. When Ophelia noticed him she took slow, disinterested steps in his direction. They met under Astrid’s watch in the middle of the yard, with casual sniffs and a circular dance. He smelled new but she recognized his soul.

“That bodes well,” she remarked when the Flattie walked over to the fence to lift his leg, leaving Ophelia behind. “Curious but not particularly engaged.”

“Yeah?” Isak was used to Ophelia dropping into a play bow, or prancing around a new dog. He was skeptical because this felt like a rejection.

“Hamlet doesn’t really like the pushy types, so the fact that Ophelia isn’t pushing him means she’s listening to his behavior, and he’s still relaxed about her.”

“His…his name is Hamlet?”

“Oh, yes! I’m sorry, I thought you knew. His litter was all boys, and they were all named after Shakespeare. Romeo, Macbeth, Othello, Lear, Caesar, and Hamlet. He was the runt.”

Ophelia watched while Hamlet made a slow loop around the yard, hugging the fence. His tail swayed low while he ignored the other dogs and the people. She followed him from a distance, marking over his spots with what was left in the tank. She knew what to do with this soul. He just needed to know she was there for him, not the puppies, not another blue-eyed boy.

Under the tree, Even was smiling at Isak, and Isak was smiling back. It was fate.

* * *

They walked Ophelia over to Astrid’s again on Sunday, and hung out with Hamlet in the yard. Astrid left them alone so she could watch over the rest of the dogs inside. Ophelia and Hamlet marked the yard together, and then Isak pulled out her rope toy as a surprise. “The true test is if she will share.” Isak gave it a decent toss and Ophelia went after it immediately.

Hamlet watched while she retrieved the toy over and over again, returning it to Isak and dropping it at his feet. He half-heartedly began chasing after her, but wasn’t committed. He followed her for a few paces, then waited for her to pick up the toy, and followed her back.

“Ophelia, come sit with me.” Even tried to lure her away from Isak by simply being Even. She looked back and forth between the toy and Even, and finally made a decision. Once she was at Even’s side, receiving back scratches she didn’t know she wanted, Isak focused on Hamlet directly.

“Hamlet. Here, boy. Want to fetch?” Isak whistled and chirped until Hamlet’s ears pointed forward and his tail leveled out straight. “Yes, let’s fetch. I’m going to throw it and you can go pick it up and bring it back to me.”

He spoke to Hamlet like the dog was not bred for this exact purpose.

Ophelia began to lunge when Isak let the toy go flying, but Even’s hand held her in place.

Isak had to fetch the toy himself twice before Hamlet got excited enough to do it on his own. He knew it was Ophelia’s toy, so he did not want to chase something that was not meant for him. But Ophelia was letting him have it, so finally he ran. Isak cheered loudly when Hamlet trotted the rope back to him and dropped it at his feet, just like Ophelia did. He threw it again and again, watching as Hamlet got used to putting power into his stride, to outpace the toy. His tail would wag freely on the return trips, and he accepted Isak’s praising pets with joy.

“I’m going to let her go so they can both chase.”

Isak nodded, and Even lifted his hand. Ophelia ran to Hamlet’s side and matched his coiled stance. Their eyes locked on the toy as Isak tried to fake them out.

“Baby, don’t tease them.”

“I’m only allowed to do that to you, eh?”

“Yes please.” When Even sighed it was a happy sigh.

Isak let the rope go, and the two dogs bumped into each other as they went after it. While he may have been a runt, Hamlet was still bigger than Ophelia. Her drive, though, kept her balanced against the bigger dog and got her to the toy faster. She picked it up first, and Hamlet had no other option but to mouth the end that hung free. She allowed him to get a grip, and then they trotted back to Isak in sync.

“Wow.”

“Shit.” Even joined Isak and they dropped to their knees to reward the dogs equally with praise. “Baby….”

“I know.”

* * *

They had playdates at Astrid’s for two more weeks. Marianne was happy to shuttle them back and forth, ready to take credit as a dog matchmaker. They played at Astrid’s and went on walks through the neighborhood to see how well they moved on leash. Hamlet was always a little slower than Ophelia but she seemed to be satisfied with his pace as well. She only tugged when she wanted to investigate something he hadn’t noticed yet; otherwise they remained side by side. Astrid recommended a coupler for the leash, which she uses on her more polite fosters.

“It’s a rare pair that can walk so well after having just met, but I think this was meant to be.” She had warned them about Hamlet’s history with another adoption, and how he’d kept trying to run away. She was very pleased with how he was behaving, and confident that Ophelia was the missing piece for him finally finding a family that could keep him.

She sent them home with the last of Hamlet’s food, to help transition him to his new diet, and return visits on the calendar. It was a tight fit for all three of them in the car, plus the two dogs, but they made it back to Isak’s apartment without issue. Marianne observed that Hamlet functioned well as a pillow for Ophelia. “He really doesn’t seem to mind that she’s dropped all of her weight on him.”

“Like father, like son.” Even lightly noted.

“Hush.” Isak did not want to expose too much of his bedroom habits in front of his mother.

“Like I haven’t seen the way you two nap on the couch.” Marianne clicked her tongue and brushed off their secrets the way mothers do. Isak sighed heavily.

He couldn’t find a parking spot near the apartment, but Even wasn’t bothered. It gave him a chance to walk the dogs and get Hamlet accustomed to his new neighborhood. He took them on a short loop while Isak carried everything inside.

Off the leash, on her home turf, Ophelia took the lead. She showed Hamlet how to check their bowls for food first, then rehydrate after a walk. Isak and Even nervously followed the dogs around, hoping their home was up to snuff for their newest family member. Ophelia took him to the living room and hopped up on the couch, claiming her and Even’s spot. Hamlet could have the other end. The humans would have to negotiate for the little remaining space.

The bathroom only got a cursory sniff. It’s where Hamlet would hide during thunder storms, though he had another few weeks before he’d find that out. The bedroom had been slightly rearranged to fit a second bed for him, but he followed a familiar scent to Ophelia’s bed first. He scratched at it, spun around a few times, and settled down.

“That’s exactly what Ophelia does.” Isak observed from the doorway.

“Will she take his bed then?”

No. Ophelia’s bed was Ophelia’s bed. But now she had a new pillow. Once Hamlet was settled Ophelia stepped onto the bed, circled what was left for her to step on, and dropped down. Hamlet wiggled to set his paws free of her weight, resting them along her back, but that was it.

“Did…you save the receipt for the other bed? Maybe we can return it.”

“Let’s put it in the closet for now. This might just be puppy love.” Even was being cautious for the first time in this whole ordeal, ready to separate them once the newness of it all wore off.

But it was a silly suggestion. They kept the bed, but it stayed in the closet. Hamlet and Ophelia shared her bed comfortably, and were rarely found in it without the other. Ophelia would still hop up onto Isak’s bed to wake them up in the morning, but she was also content to wait with Hamlet until the actual alarm went off.

Even loved walking them together, enjoying the easy exercise and the compliments he received on such a well-behaved pair. Hamlet’s long, shiny coat next to Ophelia’s spots made them quite the attractive duo, drawing attention from across the park and small crowds when they were tied up outside of shops. Even always got a chuckle out of their names when introducing them too, though occasionally he’d receive a blank stare with a “But don’t they both die?” before moving on. Most of the time they made friends wherever they went, and built up a strong network of dog parents they could meet up with, with or without their four-legged companions. Isak and Even were husbands, and Ophelia and Hamlet were their children. Marianne was a proud grandmother, spoiling them the way grandmothers do.

Ophelia wasn’t a mother, and she never would be. But she took Hamlet under her care just like she had taken Even, showing him that he was home, that he had nothing to run away from.

And even if he did, she would chase.

They sniffed Isak and Even’s things and played tug of war with the rope toy. They guarded their apartments and scratched the wood floors with vigorous games of chase. They posed beautifully for Even’s camera and obeyed Isak when he demanded privacy. They listened to their neighbors and kept the couch warm. They ran to the door when they heard the lock click. They licked melted ice cream off of the floor.

They were together for a long, long time. They proved Shakespeare wrong.


End file.
